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AN 

mTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

WITH SOME EDUCATIONAL APPLICATIONS 



BY 
MELBOURNE STUART READ, Ph.D. (Cornell) 

PROFESSOR OF PSYCHOLOGY AND EDUCATION IN 
COLGATE UNIVERSITY 



GINN AND COMPANY 

BOSTON • NEW YORK • CHICAGO • LONDON 



COPTKIGHT, 1911, BY MELBOURNE S. READ 

ENTERED AT STATIONEES' HALL 
ALL EIGHTS RESERVED 

911.3 



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tEi)e atfaengum ^resg 

GINN AND COMPANY • PRO- 
PRIETORS ■ BOSTON • U.S.A. 



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PREFACE 

It has long been the behef of the writer that the main 
truths of the science of psychology could be presented in a 
very simple, straightforward, and interesting fashion, and 
this book attempts to be such a presentation. Many ele- 
mentary works on psychology are so technical, and appar- 
ently conceived so little from the student's point of view, 
that the begmner is repelled rather than attracted. Such 
books give the impression that they deal with something 
abstruse and far away from one's ordinary concerns, rather 
than with one's own intimate experience. 

It is not necessary to state that in this book no attempt 
has been made to add to the body of scientific knowledge 
on the subject. The material presented is for the most part 
the common property of psychologists. The work of the 
author has been, rather, one of selection, emphasis, and pres- 
entation. Selection has been made of the more important 
features of the structure and functioning of the mind consid- 
ered as a part of a psychophysical organism adjustmg itself 
to the conditions of its life. The book attempts to lay the 
greater emphasis on those parts of the matters selected for 
treatment which will be most serviceable to the student in 
his early efforts to understand the mental or personal side 
of life's adjustments. The presentation tries to make clear 
what has thus been selected and emphasized, and to brmg 
these matters into close relation with the reader's experi- 
ence. It is the student's own experience which it is hoped 



iv AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

the book will better enable him to understand. The writer 
has assumed a reader intelligently interested in such matters. 

Practical applications are now made much of in teachmg 
every science, because they are useful in life and most help- 
ful in clearing up a subject and fixing it in the mind of the 
student. The greatest field for the practical application of 
psychology is in the learning and teaching processes, and 
this book makes free use of these applications wliich are 
valuable for every student of psychology and directly avail- 
able for the prospective teacher. 

The writer is of the belief that at the beginning of the 
study there is little value in the differentiation of psy- 
chology into such types as functional and structural, for 
both aspects of the description and explanation of mental 
life seem natural and harmoiiious to the beginner if the 
differentiation is ignored. This book, accordingly, attempts 
to tell its "plain tale" regardless of such distinctions, yet 
makes use of the contributions of both types of psycho- 
logical treatment. It aims to give in due measure the 
results of laboratory experimentation, and of introspection 
and observation not of the laboratory type. But the book 
is based frankly on experienced mental events, and the 
generalizations are in accord with the results of actual 
observation. Considerable space is given to the physio- 
logical aspects of the subject, and the results of investi- 
gation in cliild psychology and other differentiated branches 
are not neglected. 

The author is under especial obligation to Professors 

Hough and Sedgwick for permission to use cuts from their 

book, " The Human Mechanism." 

M. S. K. 

Hamilton, N.Y. 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Introduction . . . ^^ 1 

The nature of mental facts 1 

How mental facts are obtained . .^ 5 

Problems of psychology 8 

Practical applications of psychology 12 

Psychology and the teacher 13 

II. The General Nature of Consciousness 17 

The function of consciousness 18 

Consciousness in constant change 19 

Conscious states connected and personal 20 

Consciousness selective 21 

The mental elements 23 

Mental development 27 

III. The Nervous System 32 

General function 32 

The neurone . 33 

Sensory nerves 35 

Motor nerves .37 

The spinal cord 37 

The brain 40 

The sympathetic system 46 

Properties and functions of the neurones 47 

IV. The Simple Processes of Adaptation : Instinct, 

Impulse, and Habit 53 

Automatic acts 53 

Reflex acts 54 

Meaning of habit 56 

The nature of instinct 57 

Instinct and habit 61 

Impulse and the formation of habit 63 

Imitation, suggestion, and play 67 



vi AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

CHAPTER PAGE 

Uses and training of habit 71 

Practical and educational applications of habit . . 75 

V. The Simple Processes of Sense Stimulation : 

Sensation 85 

Definition of sensation 86 

Sensation and perception 87 

Classification of sensations 89 

Attributes of sensation 89 

Sight sensations 90 

Sound sensations 97 

Taste sensations 99 

Sensation intensity , 104 

Functions of sensation 106 

VI. The Complex Processes of Sense Stimulation : 

Perception 109 

Perception comj^ared with sensation 110 

Analysis of perception Ill 

Problems of perception 112 

Conditions of perception 112 

The thing and its properties 115> 

Space perception 116 

Perception a mental reaction 126 

The nature of illusions 127 

The function of perception 130 

Training in perception and observation 132 

VII. The Simple Affective Processes : Affection and 

Feeling 141 

Affection and its attributes 142 

Sensation and affection 143 

Definition of affection 144 

Classification of feelings 146 

Conditions of affective quality in feeling experiences 148 

VIII. The Nature of Attention and Interest . . . 156 

Varieties of attention « . . . . 159 

Duration of attention 161 



CONTENTS vii 

CHAPTER PAGE 

The range of attention 164 

Attention as analysis and as synthesis 166 

Relation of attention to interest 167 

Interest and feeling 168 

Educational applications 169 

IX. The Association of Ideas 177 

Physiological conditions of association 179 

Mental conditions of association 182 

Secondary principles of association 187 

Practical and educational applications 190 

X. The Ideational Processes : Memory 195 

Conditions of retention 198 

Conditions of recall 199 

Conditions and nature of recognition 200 . 

The sense of time in memory and perception . . . 203 

The training of memory 207 

XI. The Ideational Processes : Imagination .... 211 

Definition of imagination 212 

The material of imagination 213 

Function of imagination 214 

Forms of imagination 217 

The culture of the imagination 224 

XII. The Ideational Processes : Conception and 

Thought 232 

The nature of the concept 232 

Origin and growth of concepts 236 

Judgment and its relation to the concept .... 240 

The reasoning process 243 

Training and development of the thought processes . 248 

XIII. The Complex Affective Processes : Emotion and 

Sentiment 259 

Factors in emotion 261 

Expression of emotion 263 



viii AN INTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

CHAPTER PAGE 

. Nature and classification of sentiments 267 

Emotion and sentiment educationally and practically 

considered 271 

XIV. The Complex Processes of Conscious Adaptation : 

The Will 281 

Ideomotor action 283 

The place in volition of ideas or images 284 

Volition in relation to attention ....... 287 

. Desire and its relation to volition . . . . . . . 288 

Pleasure and pain in volition 289 

Interest in volition . ^ 290 

Relation of habit and association to volition . . . 291 

Will power in volition 292 

Imitation and suggestion in volition 293 

Making up the mind 296 

Training of the will 297 

INDEX 307 



AN INTRODUCTOKY PSYCHOLOGY 

CHAPTER I 
INTRODUCTION 

Every science has an especial class of facts which it sets 
out to examine. The science of botany, for instance, takes 
for its subject matter plant life and development, and physi- 
ology, the life of the human body. The business of any 
science is to further and to make exact and systematic 
our ordinary knowledge about the facts of experience with 
which that science deals. Now, what is the set of facts 
with which psychology deals, and concerning which it 
seeks to make our knowledge more exact, more extensive, 
and more systematic ? 

The name itself, "psychology," may in part answer the 
question, for it comes from two Greek words meaning " sys- 
tematic knowledge about the mind." The facts must then 
be mental facts, or facts of the mind's workings. Accord- 
ingly, we may provisionally define psychology as the science 
of the happenings of the mind. 

The nature of mental facts. Let us notice some of these 
mental facts. I remember a day's outing, and my mem- 
ory of it is very pleasant. This pleasant memory is a fact. 
I have it, and have it in my mind. It is a mental fact. I 
fear that some one is coming, whom I do not care to see. 
I picture him approaching, even though he may be a long 
distance off or perhaps not coming at all. You tell me I am 
imagining it. Well, so I am; but that unpleasant image is 

1 



2 AN INTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

actually in my mind, or is, in other words, a mental fact. 
The noise of the thunderclap, though having an outside 
cause, is in my mind, and so is the unpleasantness of the 
loud sound, and the hope that it is the last of the storm. 
The noise, the unpleasant feeling, and the hope are all 
mental facts. In fact, all our feelings and emotions, pains, 
hopes, and fears, all memories and imaginings, all one's 
thoughts and determinations, are mental facts, or facts of 
the workings of the mind, — in short, mental occurrences 
or processes. 

Let us ask a little further something about the nature 
of these familiar facts. How do they compare with the 
facts of botany, or of physiology, or of chemistry ? Plants 
and muscles and the metals occupy space and can be 
weighed and measured. We call them physical things. We 
cannot speak, however, of a surprise as occupying so much 
room, nor of a memory as weighing so many pounds, nor 
of a determination as being a foot square. It would seem 
absurd to speak of mental occurrences in this way. The 
mental facts do not seem to be like the physical ones, in that 
they do not occupy space and cannot be weighed and meas- 
ured. This is their first characteristic, — a negative one. 

Mental facts are, we feel, inside, personal 'affairs. They 
are one's own, one is intimately conscious of them. I feel 
my own pleasures and pains. I have my own memories 
and imaginations, my own hopes and resolves. Yours may 
be like mine ; but yours are yours, and mine are mine. 
Each knows and feels, and is conscious of his own mental 
happenings. This, then, is its second characteristic, — each 
mental fact is a personally conscious affair. 

But, though there is a great difference between men- 
tal facts and the facts of the material world, they seem to 
be connected m the closest ways. Let us notice how. For 



INTEODUCTION 3 

example, notice a person when angry. When people are 
angry they usually show it — some more, some less — by 
their looks and actions, and can hardly help doing so. 
There is the mental fact, the feeling, and there are the 
physical facts, the looks and actions. If my mind is very 
active and I am paying close attention, I set my head 
firmly, shut my jaws tight, and perhaps scowl. I have in 
mind the thought of going out for a walk ; I determine to 
do so : the walking, the physical occurrence, takes place. 
A bell is struck, the air waves vibrate, and I become aware 
of the sound ; that is, I have a sensation of noise, a per- 
ception of the ringing of the bell. Now what do these 
instances show ? They seem to show that each -mental fact 
is very closely connected, one way or another, with a physi- 
cal occurrence in one's body, or in something which can 
influence the body, or which the body can influence. 

Of these facts of mind we can say, then, first, that they 
are unlike physical facts in that they do not occupy space 
and cannot be weighed and measured ; second, each men- 
tal fact is a personally conscious affair ; third, each mental 
fact is connected in a very intimate way with a physical 
occurrence. 

It will be well to notice another way of distinguishing 
mental experiences — the facts with which psychology 
deals — from the facts with which the physical sciences 
deal. Of course both psychology and the physical sciences 
deal with facts which we experience, and we do not ordi- 
narily distinguish between them. Our experience of the 
facts of our daily life is two-sided. There are the objects, 
physical objects, which we see, hear, taste, and handle. 
These physical objects and their ways of behavior are 
what interest us ordinarily in our daily experience of them, 
and are the facts with which the physical scientist — the 



4 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

chemist, physicist, or botanist — deals. This is one aspect 
or side of the experience. The other side or aspect of the 
experience, the side which ordinarily calls for little interest 
and attention, is the way in which persons live these facts 
as their own mner experience. This aspect of the case may 
be suggested by the words which we commonly use in 
speakmg of our own inner experience with these physical 
objects. We say we see them, we hear them, we remember 
them, we are pleased or displeased with them, we use them 
for our purposes, or to satisfy our desires. Now, the seeing, 
the hearing, the remembering, the being pleased or dis- 
pleased, the purposes, and the satisfaction of desire, — these 
all are the other side, the mner, personal side of the ex- 
perience. The boy who is building a snow fort does not take 
the trouble to sort out his experiences for the benefit of 
various scientists. The snow, the work, the success, the 
cold, the fun, the plans, his bodily movements, — all these 
are mmgled for him in a direct, living way. But it does 
not take much reflection to distmguish the mathematical 
form of the fort from the boy's pride in his achievement, 
the snow from his feeling of cold, his bodily movements 
and exertion from his feeling of tiredness resulting, nor the 
threatening south wind from his hope that his snow fort 
will not melt down before it. Mathematics may treat of 
forms of forts, meteorology may treat of storms and temper- 
ature, physics, of forces engaged in the operations, physi- 
ology, of the blood coursmg through his veins and the 
reasons for the boy's strength ; but psychology treats of the 
fun of building the fort, the pride and the hope mentioned, 
the feeling of cold and of weariness and all the other per- 
sonal aspects of the fort-building experience. All of our 
experience is, then, two-sided. It is our experience of the 
things, and it is our experience. The things and their 



INTEODUCTIO^ 5 

behavior, one side of our experience, are the facts with 
which the physical sciences deal. The inner, personal side 
of the very same experience consists of the mental facts, 
the facts with which psychology deals. 

How mental facts are obtained. Let us next ask how we 
may obtain these mental facts in order* to study them care- 
fully. I think we may say that they are to be obtamed by 
noticing what is going on in one's mind. When we have 
feelings, memories, etc., if we notice them carefully, we can 
surely have them before our thought for examination, just 
as we have plants and flowers before us for study. We can 
be aware of the inner, personal side of our experiences as 
truly, if not as easily, as we may be of the physical-object 
side. To pay attention to the happenings of our minds, to 
notice the mind's workings as they go on, — this is the 
way to obtain our facts. I can notice that one sound seems 
louder than another ; that whenever a certain event is called 
to mind, it is attended by a painful feeling ; that if I thmk 
of a certain house, I usually think of my friend who lives 
there. I can, by looking within, observe a great variety of 
mental occurrences, perceptions, memories, imagined pic- 
tures, emotions, sentiments, deliberations, determinations, 
pleasant and unpleasant feelmgs. 

The chief difficulty which we have in lookmg these facts 
squarely in the face is that they are so close to us, and there- 
fore we overlook them. We are unused to it. We look at 
the outer side of the experience rather than the mner, per- 
sonal side. Practice, however, will very soon enable one to 
take the inward look and to notice the mental facts dis- 
tmctly. There is, too, a wonderful help which we have in 
this matter, the memory of a mental occurrence. This brings 
it back to us, in a partially different setting, it is true, but 
it is again clear in consciousness, and we may complete our 



6 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

first look. This careful noticing of what is going on in 
one's mind is called introspection. The etymology of the 
word shows its meaning. It is a looking within. This is 
by far the most important method of finding the facts of 
our science. 

Another way to obtain mental facts is to notice what is 
gomg on m the minds of others. This is not as direct a 
method as the former, nor are its results as valuable. How 
can we tell what is going on in the mmds of those about 
us? By their actions, looks, manner, and words. These 
we have to translate into the mental states which we be- 
lieve they represent. In other words, we have to under- 
stand them by what we know of our own thoughts and 
feelings in connection with our own words and acts, and 
judge the mental workings of others accordingly. This 
method is called that of observation. 

In addition to these two chief ways of obtaining the facts 
of the mental life, the psychologist carries the method of 
observation further in several ways, of which the following 
are the most important. 

First, observation of the mental life of children. This 
really constitutes a separate field of psychology, usually 
called child psychology. It is of considerable assistance 
to the general psychologist because m this way we can 
notice many habits, ideas, beliefs, etc., as they are being 
developed. We can notice the conditions and factors in- 
volved in the growth, and thus learn their inner nature 
more thoroughly. 

Second, we may notice the thoughts, feelings, and ideals 
of the people whose mner lives are portrayed m biography, 
fiction, and the drama. Here, too, we may notice the growth 
of various phases of their inner experience, the play of mo- 
tives, and their issuance in conduct. These writings by 



INTRODUCTION 7 

keen analysts of human nature are valuable descriptions of 
the workmgs of the inner or mental life. 

Third, we may notice abnormal exhibitions of the mental 
life, such as cases of insanity, the dream life, and the inter- 
esting phenomena of hypnotism. These mental phenomena 
furnish facts for what may be regarded as a very special 
field of psychology; namely, psychology of the abnormal 
mind. Much light is thrown on the normal, regular work- 
ing of the mind by a study of these irregular cases. The 
help derived from these sources by the psychologist is like 
that drawn by the physiologist from the pathological con- 
ditions of the bodily life, though it is not as great in extent 
nor of such importance. 

Again, much has been done in recent years in the study 
of the behavior of animals, in order to understand the na- 
ture of their mental processes, and so we have a branch of 
psychology called animal psychology. All of these sources 
of help — child psychology, abnormal psychology, animal 
psychology, and descriptions and analyses of mental pro- 
cesses in literature — are but a further carrying out of the 
method of observation, the finding of additional facts of 
the mental life in an indirect way. 

The mental scientist depends also, for the finding out of 
mental facts and the understanding of them, upon experi- 
mentation. This is a modern refinement of the methods 
of introspection and observation, supplementing them and 
making them more exact in their results. For example, in 
investigating the number of the degrees of brightness which 
one may see (white, black, and all the grays between), if 
language and ordinary observation were relied on, we 
should have black, dark gray, gray, light gray, and white, 
— five. Or we might realize that there are two or more 
blacks, for example that of velvet and of silk ; two or more 



8 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

whites, for example paint and writing paper ; very dark 
and moderately dark grays, etc. Under experimental con- 
ditions, however, by means of black and white revolving 
disks carefully graduated as the experiment progresses, and 
by careful comparison, one may detect over six hundred 
qualities of black, gray, and white. In experimenting, the 
conditions under which the introspection and the observa- 
tion are carried on may be carefully controlled and made 
exact, and the results are in so far the more valuable. Ex- 
perimental psychology is not to be regarded as a separate 
branch of psychology. It is a method for obtaining more 
exact results in general psychology, and in the various spe- 
cial branches of the general science, such as child psychol- 
ogy, animal psychology, etc. 

Of these methods we may repeat that the method of in- 
trospection, especially when carried on by the aid of the 
memory, is the first in importance. Its results would, how- 
ever, be meager, were it not for the further help rendered 
by the observation methods. And, finally, advances of the 
most far-reaching character have been made in recent years 
by the employment of the experimental methods, making 
observation exact and introspection significant. 

Problems of psychology. We have now considered some- 
thing of the nature of the facts with which the psychologist 
deals, and have answered the question as to how these facts 
may be obtained for examination. Our next question natu- 
rally is the following: How does the psychologist deal 
with these facts in order to understand them more fully; 
what are his main aims ; and indeed how, out of these facts, 
does he build up his science ? Perhaps the first feature of 
work in psychology is to recognize the practical sorting of 
the material as found in our everyday speech and usage. 
We have such terms denoting mental states as memory, 



INTEODUCTION 9 

emotion, reasoning, imagination, etc. Each of these aspects 
of mental hfe may be singled out and defined, and its own 
general characteristics noticed and described. To point out 
the more evident properties of a memory or an emotion, 
and to compare and contrast it with other mental states, 
would be our natural way of dealing with that particular 
state of mind as a result of our introspection. Our task is 
then, first, simply definition and description. 

But this would hardly satisfy our desire for exact knowl- 
edge about these mental states. Our look must be a closer 
one. We carry further this work of scrutiny and seek for 
the parts out of which the concrete mental states are com- 
posed. This we usually call analysis, whether we are inves- 
tigating a mental state, such as a fancy of the imagination, 
or a physical object, such as a flower or common salt. Of 
course such an analysis of a mental state or conscious 
process will be somewhat different from that of a physical 
object. It cannot be actually resolved into separate parts, 
or elements, so that each part may be experienced singly. 
And yet the most important purpose of the analytic process 
may be accomplished by directing the attention to the vari- 
ous features or components of the concrete state, and by 
reducing the complexity in an experimental way. Thus, 
one might analyze such a simple experience as the taste of 
lemonade : one can easily detect a sour taste, a sweet taste, 
a fragrance in smell, a certain temperature, and a sensa- 
tion of cutaneous pricking in the mouth, — and all these 
in as simple an experience as what we call tasting lemonade. 
Nor have we included here the other parts of the whole 
mental state at the time one is tasting the lemonade, such 
as the pleasure, the memories aroused, and much else. 
When we have made our analysis as fine as we can, we 
may be said to have arrived at the elemental features of 



10 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

the conscious process. And then, at the same time, we are 
also curious to know just how the parts iit together, or 
somehow combine to make up the whole concrete conscious 
process. We want to know how the parts are related to the 
whole, in what the synthesis consists. The perception of 
an apple, imagination of a shipwreck, an emotion of fear, — 
to determine how any one of these mental states is made 
up of different elements is a most mteresting and indeed 
not difficult part of the psychologist's undertaking. Our 
second task is, then, one of analysis and synthesis. 

Still our curiosity is not satisfied. In our study of hap- 
penmgs in the physical world about us, we want to know, 
for example, why the brook is so full of water to-day, rush- 
ing along like a torrent. And then we think of the heavy 
rains of yesterday and the day before. They are the cause 
of the high brook to-day. We are constantly asking what 
has happened before to make a certain thing behave as it 
is behaving. Just so we ask the question of our mental 
happenings. What has gone on just before to make them 
what they are ? What is the reason for the unusually 
happy frame of mind which my friend is in to-day? I find 
out that he has been told of a holiday and a trip which his 
father has promised him. He has good reason for his happy 
thoughts and feelings. My friend suggests that I accom- 
pany him, and I determine to arrange my work so that I 
can do so. My determination is, in a measure, explained. 
The pleasant mood is easily accounted for. Just as we 
account for the swollen current of the brook do we account 
for these states of mmd. Of course this is rough-and- 
ready finding of cause and effect in the physical world, 
and rough-and-ready psychologizing, but the general pur- 
pose is the same in more exact scientific work. The third 
task of the psychologist is, then, to find out the order of 



INTEODUCTION 11 

succession of mental states, in so far as they lend themselves 
to such determination, and the conditions of consciousness 
which determine the nature of new conscious states. 

Whenever I hear a sound or smell an odor, I am likely 
to look for its source. When I determine to sit down and 
write a letter to my friend, my body and fingers obey my 
will. As we have already seen, one of the chief features 
of our mental facts, or conscious processes, is that they 
are closely connected with some physical happening in our 
bodies, or in our environment as that affects our bodies or 
is affected by them. The human organism which has the 
experience of which we have been speaking not only has 
this experience in the double way of physical occurrences 
and mental processes, but is itseK a mind-body affair. That 
the brain is the organ of the mind is now a commonplace. 
One of the most interesting phases of the science of psy- 
chology is to show the relation between our mental states 
and the physical things and events to which they refer, 
and also to show the intimate connection in the organism 
itself between the mental processes and the correspond- 
ing bodily processes. The fourth important feature of our 
problem, then, is to show the relation existmg between 
our mental states and those physical occurrences in the 
body itself and in the external world connected with them. 

We may. say, then, that in examinmg its facts the task of 
psychology is fourfold. First, it attempts to mark off, de- 
fine, and describe the general features of our mental proc- 
esses ; second, to analyze them in order to find out their 
elemental parts, and to make a synthesis of conscious , ele- 
ments so as to see how those parts fit in together and go 
to make up the whole concrete mental state ; third, to show 
the order, in some cases at least, of their succession as they 
occur ; and fourth, to show the relation between them and 



12 AN INTEODUCTOKY PSYCHOLOGY 

the physical occurrences, in the body and in the external 
world, connected with them. 

We have now seen somethmg of the nature of mental 
facts, the kind of material with which the psychologist has 
to deal. We have indicated how these facts may be ob- 
tained. We have also outlined the nature of the problem 
which these facts suggest, the fourfold task of the psychol- 
ogist. It may be well to add some considerations concern- 
ing the value of the study of psychology. 

Practical applications of psychology. Without asking for 
a number of detailed values in the more practical sense, 
one can say that the study of psychology has the same 
intellectual value possessed by any other of the sciences 
into which the field of human inquiry is divided. At least 
it will tend to satisfy intellectual curiosity as concerned 
with its own set of facts. And if we learn in order to 
adjust ourselves the better to our total life, — physical, 
mental, moral, economic, social, aesthetic, spiritual, — cer- 
tainly knowledge concerning the working of the normal 
processes of our own and others' minds is an essential 
feature. 

More specifically it may be said that an intimate acquaint- 
ance, not mere book knowledge, with the ways in which 
mens' mmds work is of decided practical p-dvantage in 
business relations, in law (especially m connection with 
testimony of witnesses), in the practice of medicine, (the 
mental aspect of which is becoming so pronounced) in pub- 
lic speech, and in private mtercourse. As an introduction 
to other sciences, too, as well as in connection with these 
arts just mentioned, psychology occupies a most important 
place. We may mention logic, dealing with the principles 
and procedure of correct reasoning ; ethics, dealing with the 
principles of worthy conduct; aesthetics, dealing with the 



INTEODUCTIOK 13 

principles of human appreciation of beauty ; sociology, deal- 
ing with human beings in society ; economics and politics. 

Psychology and the teacher. In a most direct sense is the 
science of psychology related to the process of education and 
the art of the teacher. This relation we may examine in 
some of its more general aspects, and as we proceed with 
the various topics in this book some more detailed appli- 
cations will be made. Psychology will thus be seen to be 
a very practical science. 

The relation may be made plain by an example. The art 
of the electrical engineer depends in great measure upon 
a thorough knowledge of the science of physics, or that 
division of it called electricity. The art of the physician 
depends upon a thorough knowledge of physiology and 
of chemistry. These arts may be practiced in a " quack " 
way without such scientific knowledge, but for genuine 
thoroughgomg success it is essential. We realize, too, that 
the engineer and the physician must have good judgment 
in applying their scientific knowledge, or they will fail in 
their work. 

The art of teaching, in like manner, depends upon the 
science of psychology. The teacher must know the mind 
of the pupil, its ways of working and of getting knowledge, 
in order to teach the pupil and help to mold his character 
in the most intelligent and thoroughgomg way. It is with 
these workings of the pupils' minds that the teacher has 
constantly to deal. They are the material that he must use. 
With this knowledge for his guide, he will have reasons 
for what he does, and will not go about his work blindly. 
Of course, the teacher must have practical sense and good 
judgment in applying this scientific knowledge about the 
mind and its behavior to his problems, or he will not 
succeed. 



14 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

In one other feature we may compare the method of 
learning the teachmg art with- the art of the engineer and 
that of the physician. In the scliools of engineering and of 
medicine a large part of the time is taken up with a study 
of the ways of applying the scientific principles to the main 
problems of the engineer and of the physician, and thus 
the learner profits by the knowledge and experience of the 
masters in these arts. It is the same way with learning 
the art of teaching. The teacher may become acquainted 
with the chief methods of applying the knowledge of 
the laws of the behavior of the mind to the various 
problems of the art of teaching. He, too, may profit by 
the knowledge and experience of others. Thus he may 
gain an insight into the principles of education and of 
management. 

We find, then, that the art of teaching depends largely 
on a knowledge of the science of psychology, though this 
is not sufficient. The teacher must have practical sense 
and good judgment in applying this knowledge, and must 
become acquainted with the chief methods which study 
and experience have shown to be useful and well-founded 
in the practical work of teaching. 

Although such knowledge of psychology and the methods 
of its application to teachmg are essential for genuine suc- 
cess on the part of the teacher, it cannot take the place of 
two other important thmgs with which the teacher should 
be thoroughly acquainted. The first is the subject which 
is to be taught. If one is to teach arithmetic, one must 
know arithmetic thoroughly; and so with any other sub- 
ject, — botany, Latin, American history, etc. To try to teach 
any subject without this thorough knowledge is to invite 
failure from the start. And, of course, if any methods of 
instruction are particularly useful m the teaching of any one 



INTRODUCTION 15 

subject, then the one who is to teach that subject should be 
thoroughly familiar with such methods. 

The second important thing to be noticed here is that 
there should be a thorough acquaintance with the ends or 
purposes which education has in view. What kind of men 
and women do we want our pupils to become ? What is 
to be the result of all this teaching business ? What is the 
nature of the goal which is to be held in view ? The answer 
to such questions as these must be deep set in the mind and 
heart of every true teacher. The end and purpose of the 
education process should be kept well in mind to guide 
the teacher truly in the practice of the art. These ends or 
ideals we must get from the ideals of the best people and 
from what the community expects of its best members. It 
is from the nature of our social life that these lessons must 
be drawn, and with this the teacher must be familiar. Our 
psychology will furnish us with the knowledge of the best 
means to be used for the attainment of these purposes, but 
what it is desirable that our pupils should become we must 
learn in another way. 

We can thus see that among the essential features of the 
preparation of the teacher for his work an intimate knowl- 
edge of psychology, or how the mental processes operate, 
has an important place. Of course the teacher must have 
systematized and exact knowledge of the application of 
these principles to his work. He must have sense, sensi- 
tiveness, and good judgment, in the application of these 
principles to specific pieces of work and to individual cases. 
He must have a thorough knowledge of the subject to be 
taught and of special devices particularly useful m that 
subject. We have seen, too, that he must have a realiza- 
tion of the aim and purpose of the education process, and a 
deep conviction of its worth. But without a knowledge of 



16 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

psychology the teacher would be handicapped to an even 
greater extent than would be the man of business, the 
public speaker, the lawyer, and the physician. 

EEFERENCES 

RoYCE. Outlines of Psychology, Chapter I. 

TiTCHENER. An Outline of Psychology, Chapter I. 

Angell. Psychology, Chapter I. 

James. Talks to Teachers, Chapter I. 

MuNSTERBERG. Psychology and the Teacher, Chapters XI and XII. 

Thorndike. Elements of Psychology, Chapter XXI. 



CHAPTER II 
THE GENERAL NATURE OF CONSCIOUSNESS 

What is consciousness ? When wide-awake, I am con- 
scious. Wlien in a sound sleep, I am not conscious. When 
half asleep, I am just partly conscious. If one should faint, 
one would lose consciousness. When the first signs of com- 
ing to are apparent, one is gradually regaining conscious- 
ness. When fully recovered, one is fully conscious again. 
We are conscious, then, when we have any mental life or 
experience. So long as we have feelings and ideas, we have 
consciousness. To be unconscious means to be without 
feelings and ideas. Any mental happening is a conscious 
state of mind, or a state of consciousness. To say that we 
are conscious and to say that we have mental life — feel- 
ings, memories, etc. — is to speak of one and the same thing. 

Definition. Our definition of consciousness may, then, be 
given in the words of Professor Baldwin : " Consciousness 
is the one condition and abiding characteristic of mental 
states." 

Features of consciousness. In this chapter we shall 
attempt to set forth some of the more obvious, yet funda- 
mental, features of the conscious processes as they go on. 
This seems the natural procedure in our study, for it will 
bring out the more general characteristics of the facts 
of the mind, and will in a way roughly outline the more 
special and detailed study which is to come. 

Perhaps the first inquiry should be as to the general 
function of the conscious states, or the kind of part they 
play in the life of this psycho-physical organism called man. 

17 



18 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

The function of consciousness. As the various organs of 
the body have their various functions or offices to perform 
for the welfare of the liuman organism, questions like the 
following are sometimes asked: What is consciousness for, 
so far as the welfare of the whole life of the individual is 
concerned ? What is the use and purjDOse of this highly 
developed series of conscious states ? Why are our minds 
so much more complex, and of so much higher an order, 
than those of the animals, if indeed they have minds ? 
Why are we endowed with conscious states at all, when 
there are so many living things which seem to have no 
consciousness ? This question of the nature and purpose 
of consciousness has been, until recent years, neglected by 
the psychologist. The progress of the science of biology, 
and the general change in the way of looking at everything 
in the world brought about by the doctrines of biological 
evolution, have forced this question to the front and have 
made what is called the biological view of consciousness 
perhaps the most fundamental of all. What, then, is the 
function of consciousness ; what is its meaning and use in 
the life of the organism ? Consciousness, we are told, has 
been developed in the human species for some useful pur- 
pose, just as have the eye and the spmal column. 

States of consciousness, or the mental processes, it may 
be said, exist in order that we may, by understanding our- 
selves and our environment, better adjust ourselves to that 
environment, and our environment to ourselves as far as 
possible. Each mental experience — sensation, perception, 
memory, judgment, emotion, and the rest — has its own 
office or function to perform in the way of being knowingly 
aware of what surrounds the individual, and of prompt- 
ing the individual to act therein to advantage. Each 
sight, each memory, each plan we form, each emotional 



GENERAL NATURE OF CONSCIOUSNESS 19 

stirring, has its own peculiar result in this life-and-death 
matter of adjustment to environment. How this goes on 
we shall in a measure see in the discussions which fol- 
low. The various aspects of consciousness exist in us for 
the purpose of our understanding ourselves and our envi- 
ronment, for our being stirred in such a way that we may 
respond to the needs of a situation, and for the purpose 
of our acting intelligently and forcibly under the circum- 
stances in which we may be placed. 

The first feature of consciousness in our account, then, 
may be stated as follows : Consciousness, as a whole and 
in its various parts, has as its office or function the further- 
ing of the life of the organism by means of the superior 
adjustment which it is able to bring about. The impor- 
tance of consciousness for this purpose becomes greater as 
we ascend in the scale of life, and as consciousness itself 
becomes more complex. We shall have occasion to notice 
at what especial point in the life and conduct of the organ- 
ism conscious guidance becomes necessary. It should be 
kept constantly in mind that, no matter what the ranges 
of consciousness may be, it has thus a main function and 
business, and that, so far as we know, it owes its very exist- 
ence to that organism whose fortunes it holds so. within its 
grasp. 

Consciousness in constant change. Let us notice, further, 
some of the features of this consciousness, or mental life, 
as it goes on. Take any busy hour and notice what is 
going on in the mind's experience. All through this hour, 
and all our waking hours, we are constantly noticing peo- 
ple and objects about us, now a few, now a great many. 
We are having memories which pass quickly out of mind, 
or which we fondly dwell upon. We are imagining all 
kinds of possibilities for ourselves, are having pleasant or 



20 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

painful feelings, are perhaps stirred by an emotion. We 
are forming plans and are determining to carry them out. 
These mental happenings or states of consciousness succeed 
one another rapidly. While we may distinguish between 
these various conscious states, they are very closely con- 
nected, dovetailed mto one another. These experiences, 
which each person has, have been well called a stream of 
consciousness. Consciousness flows on constantly during 
our wakmg hours. This is a very noticeable feature. Our 
ideas and feelings are constantly being succeeded by other 
ideas and feelings. The new day and the new year come. 
One feels now well, now ill. New plans succeed the old 
ones, and we have the pleasure of seeing them realized. 
Tln-oughout each hour, each day, each month and year, 
there is constantly a changing procession of ideas, feelings, 
impulses, and other mental happenings. The second prom- 
inent feature of our mental life is this, — that consciousness 
is in constant flow and in rapid change. 

Conscious states connected and personal. But this is only 
one side of the story. How intimately related these succes- 
sive mental states are ! One mental state depends on the 
one going before it, and in turn gives rise to the next. My 
thought about accomplishing a certain purpose is followed 
by my determination to act, and the act brings the pleasure 
of having accomplished the purpose and of havmg the desire 
satisfied. Our thoughts and feelings of to-day are very 
much like those of yesterday. We have very much the 
same tasks to perform, the same people to meet, the same 
places to be in, and toward them all we act and feel much 
the same one day as another. The same memories and the 
same plans linger long in one's mind. It is not all kaleido- 
scopic change. We are quite familiarly at home with our 
own mental states after all. They are our own. There is 



GENEEAL NATURE OF CONSCIOUSNESS 21 

the same personal reference, the same famihar feeling of 
self. Whether one has a plan or feeling or memory to-clay 
or to-morrow, it is his own. The third noticeable feature of 
our consciousness is, then, that our states of mind are very 
closely related as they succeed one another ; that there is a 
great similarity between them ; and that there is the same 
personal reference, more or less definite, in them all, in a 
way binding them together. 

Consciousness selective. Another noticeable feature of 
our consciousness is that conscious states differ consider- 
ably as to the amount of interest we have in them, and 
as to the amount of attention we give to them. My atten- 
tion, when a story is being told, may be very slight and 
my interest meager. My attention is then likely to wan- 
der to other things in which I am interested. On the 
other hand, the story may be a good one, my interest in it 
may be very strong, and my attention absorbed by it. I 
give myself up to the story, and the state of mind is very 
different from the former one. In this latter state, where 
the attention and interest are given to the story, there will 
be some items or parts which are not as important as others, 
but which we notice somewhat. We may be somewhat con- 
scious, too, of the presence of other people, or of the fact 
that the room is growing dark, or perhaps getting cold. 
We are conscious of these things but give them little at- 
tention. They have, at present, no interest for us. These 
almost unnoticed ideas have been called the fringe of con- 
sciousness. We seem to be very conscious of the interest- 
ing thing and that to which we give considerable attention. 
There seem to be degrees of consciousness. Or, to put it in 
another way, consciousness is more or less intense accord- 
ing to the attention and the interest. An idea or a feeling 
may be right in the focus of the light of consciousness, or 



22 AN INTKODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

it may occupy any position away from the focus, until we 
have no interest in it whatever, pay not the slightest atten- 
tion to it, and it leaves even the fringe of consciousness and 
disappears altogether. As the stream of consciousness flows 
on, it seems to flow in waves ; ideas and feelings come and 
go, claiming various degrees of our attention and interest. 
We may repeat, then, as the fourth noticeable feature of 
our consciousness, that conscious states differ in the amount 
of interest they possess for us and in the degree of attention 
we give to them ; and that in any state of consciousness we 
are more interested in some one part of the complex whole 
than in other parts, and give our attention to it at the 
expense of the rest. We shall find, as we proceed, that 
these activities of interest and attention are very impor- 
tant features of the mental life. A special chapter will 
be given to them, and their constant presence in varying 
degrees will be noted in connection with many of the con- 
crete mental states which we shall have to examine. 

Factors in consciousness. There is another noticeable 
feature, or group of features, very closely connected with 
the fourth feature, just referred to, which is easily observ- 
able in our conscious states as they go on. These features 
are familiarly referred to in our everyday speech, and are 
commonly understood as knowing, feeling, and willing. 
Consciousness behaves as a knowing thing; it also feels 
somehow or is affected pleasantly or unpleasantly, and is 
impulsive or active. This knowing feature is closely con- 
nected with the attention of the last section, while interest 
in anything means that the mind feels and is active in a 
striving, impulsive, or conative way. In speaking of tlie 
structure or make-up of our various states of consciousness 
we may say, if our common opinion is scientifically valid, 
that each state has in it, in certain proportions, these various 



GENERAL NATURE OF CONSCIOUSNESS 23 

factors. Or, to put it iii another way, consciousness acts 
all the while as a knowing, feeling, and impulsive affair, 
and in all these ways at once, now with greater stress 
on the knowing or having of ideas, and now with the 
feeling and impulsive feature predominating. At one time 
the state of consciousness is chiefly of the knowing sort, or 
is composed mainly of ideas, while pleasantness or unpleas- 
antness and impulse may be very slightly in evidence. We 
may be so under the control of pain or joy that both know- 
ing and impulse or action will be almost absent. Again, 
one's determination may be so strong that pam and pleasure 
are practically out of mind, and our knowing only impor- 
tant enough to give our determination some meaning. It 
often happens that the conscious state is one in which 
knowing, and pleasant or unpleasant feelings, both largely 
enter ; or knowing and determination ; or again, pleasant- 
ness or unpleasantness, along with strong determination, 
while in each case the third factor may be quite insignifi- 
cant. Of so varied and complex a nature are our several 
mental states ! 

The mental elements. It is commonly said that the mind 
behaves in these three distinct ways, — the way of cognition 
or knowing, the way of feeling, and the way of willing. 
This means that our conscious states are made up of three 
factors, cognition (knowing), affection (feeling), and cona- 
tion (willing). It is becommg more common, however, to 
regard these factors, or elements, as really but two, — either 
by regarding affection, or pleasantness and unpleasantness, 
and impulse, or conation, as simply two forms of feeling ; 
or by regarding cognition and affection as the two elemental 
factors, with conation as really a compound made up of these 
two. The latter classification is probably more correct. We 
have, then, as factors in our states of consciousness, the 



24 AN INTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

simple elements, cognition and affection, with a unique 
compound of these, which we may call conation. As we 
shall see later, the term "sensation" is preferable to "cog- 
nition " when used to describe the element of knowledge, 
but there is some advantage in using the more general 
term here. 

Undoubtedly in one sense it is a very abstract or even 
far-fetched affair to speak of elements of consciousness at 
this stage of the discussion. There are, however, two con- 
siderations to justify it. The first is, that before any study 
of psychology we do speak constantly of knowing and feel- 
ing and willing, as though they were somehow different 
sorts of consciousness. The second consideration is, that, 
by recognizing these abstract elements at once, we are 
given a method of procedure, namely to inquire what part 
is played by each of these in our various mental states, 
thus affording at least one question about the concrete per- 
ceptions, emotions, etc., which will have a real meaning. 

It is not often safe in scientific study to take the expres- 
sions and classifications of everyday life and adapt them 
to scientific usage. In this case, however, the practice is a 
help rather than a hindrance, for it recognizes that there 
are some fundamental differences in the material or struc- 
ture of mental states, and sets the psychologist the task of 
looking carefully into their elemental nature. 

Cognition. Let us examine somewhat more carefully 
the nature of these factors of consciousness. Cognition is 
a very important part of our conscious life. We perceive 
objects, learn their properties, notice their similarities and 
differences, classify them, and find out their cause-and- 
effect relations. We know people, we understand prob- 
lems, we have in mind desirable ends, and we think out the 
means which will bring those ends to pass. In all these 



GENERAL NATUEE OF CONSCIOUSNESS 25 

experiences our conscious states are of the knowing sort, 
or are cognitive. We have various objects of knowledge 
before us, either as we directly see or hear them, or as they 
come up in memory, and we seek to know, to understand 
them. In behaving in this way of cognition or knowing, 
we may experience more or less of pleasantness or unpleas- 
antness in the way of feeling. Or, again, in this process of 
knowing there may be more or less of active interest, striv- 
ing, restlessness, in the pursuit of the knowledge or the 
attainment of the purpose. One may, however, be rather 
passively observant, or calmly contemplative, and, if so, the 
conative aspect of consciousness would be practically absent. 

Feeling. Affection is a very intimate or personal phase 
of our conscious life. We are seldom, if ever, without it 
altogether. In a very joyful experience, or in a very pain- 
ful one, affective feeling is extremely prominent. Pleasures 
and pains, emotions of joy and sorrow, are so well known 
to all that they need be simply mentioned. Of course 
there are all degrees of pleasant and unpleasant feelings, 
from the extreme, engulfing sort, to those which are hardly 
noticed. When we are experiencing considerable feeling of 
the pleasant or the unpleasant sort, the knowing aspect of 
consciousness may be present to a great or a small degree. 
So, in such cases, the conative aspect may be slight, as hap- 
pens when we give ourselves up passively to the simple 
enjoyment of a pleasure ; or it may be very intense, where 
our feelings spur or drive us on to action. 

Conation. The conative aspect of conscious states Js very 
prominent in all experiences of active interest and atten- 
tion, of longing, desiring, determining, and willing. It is 
a well-marked condition, though probably composed, as 
was said above, of sensation and affection. In it we are 
conscious of restlessness, of action. In so far as the mind is 



26 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

striving to realize a new condition, it is conative. Stout 
says : " Stated in its most general form, conation is unrest. 
It exists when and so far as a present state of consciousness 
tends by its intrinsic nature to develop into something else." 
In working out an interesting problem, one's state of mind is 
conative as well as cognitive. In the daring exploit spurred 
on by patriotic sentiment, the mind of the soldier shows its 
conative aspect in its determination, its heroic resolve, and its 
issue in bodily action. Consciousness of activity, of change, 
of progress, of restlessness of mind, may be taken as the mark 
of the conative aspect of mental states. With it there may 
be much or little of affection, much or little of cognition. 

The fifth general feature of consciousness, then, is the 
following : Conscious states are made up of various ele- 
ments or factors, that of cognition or those of a cognitive 
nature, and those of the affective or feeling sort, in varying 
degrees and combinations. To these is sometimes added 
the conative ; but while many conscious states are, at least 
in part, conative, conation itself is rather a compound of 
sensation and affection, than a separate element. 

In connection with this fifth general feature of con- 
sciousness, it may not be out of place to issue a warn- 
ing. The mental elements, so called, do not exist as sepa- 
rate things, nor are the more concrete complex mental 
states formed by any aggregating of these elements. The 
latter are simply distinguishable features of actual states 
of mind. In the development of these mental states, both 
in the race and in the individual consciousness, it should 
be realized that these so-called elements are the result of 
differentiation and distinctions possible only in the higher 
ranges of the developing process, while the mental states 
themselves become in this process more unified and less 
capable of any actual division. 



GENERAL NATURE OF CONSCIOUSNESS 27 

The five general features of our conscious processes are 
then the following : Fnst, consciousness as a whole and in 
its various parts has as its function the furtherance of the 
life of the organism by means of the superior adjustment 
to life's conditions which it is able to bring about. Second, 
consciousness is in constant flow and rapid change. Third, 
states of mind are very closely related as they succeed one 
another ; there is a great similarity between them ; and they 
have, more or less, the same personal reference. Fourth, 
conscious states differ greatly m their degree of interest and 
attention. Fifth, consciousness is, in the way described, 
composed of mental elements. 

While these five features of consciousness have thus been 
outlined as very obvious and yet fundamental and impor- 
tant for the student to take account of, certain others 
might be added ; and, indeed, these might have been sub- 
divided, while some writers might not think it best to in- 
clude them all. It is hoped, however, that what has been 
said will prove profitable, in an introductory way, and it is 
the thought of the writer that further refinement and addi- 
tions at this stage would not be especially profitable. 

Mental development. In seeking to give an account of 
the nature of the mental processes, or happenings of the 
mind, it must be remembered that the earliest experi- 
ences of the child are quite different from those which 
come some years later. After the earliest childhood is 
left behmd, there is in the stream of consciousness all 
that variety of concrete mental experiences which we 
call thinkmg, — conceptions, memories, imagmings, per- 
ceptions, feelings, emotions, and volitions. These become 
quite distinct from one another, and we can describe them 
by their own characteristics. During the first experiences 
of childhood, however, the mental life is of a much more 



28 AN mTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

confused, vague, undifferentiated sort. Probably this con- 
fused, vague stream of consciousness has in it in embryo 
practically all of the later developments, but decidedly in 
embryo. The child is not aware in a conscious way of the 
sort of mental life that it is experiencing. It does not as 
yet distinguish between itself and others ; it does not dis- 
tinguish objects clearly as objects, nor does it distinguish 
its own self and its inner conscious life from the world 
of objects in which it lives. In this very impersonal way, 
vague and confused, it no doubt has certain pressure and 
temperature sense-perception experiences, tastes, sounds, 
sight impressions, pleasures and pains, instinctive and im- 
pulsive tendencies, memories or images, and even the 
beginnings of conception and reason. But it can hardly 
be said that they are definitely distinguishable as yet ; and 
certainly it would be most incorrect to think of the mental 
elements actually existing in isolated refinement in the mind 
of the babe, waiting to be amalgamated into various com^ 
pounds as the results of experience. 

Method. In our study of the mental processes m a scien- 
tific way, we might begin with the earliest experiences of 
the child, such as those mentioned above, which may be 
picked out from this confused stream of consciousness, and 
trace the development, stage by stage, to the more nearly 
adult consciousness. This branch of psychology, or method 
of studying mental processes, is referred to as genetic child 
psychology. By the various ways of observation and exper- 
iment the development of the normal life of the child may 
be traced stage by stage. Much work has been done along 
this line and many valuable results have been reached. 

Or we might take up the chief forms of concrete mental 
experience of the more developed adult life, and study them 
in accordance with the problems of the fourfold task of the 



GENERAL NATURE OF CONSCIOUSNESS 29 

psychologist mentioned in the first chapter. Each plan has 
its advantages, but the latter is to be the general method 
of this book, advantage being taken, however, of the genetic 
method wherever it seems to be of especial value. 

It will probably be most useful to discuss first those 
more elemental parts of the mental life, such as simple sen- 
sations and sense-perceptions of objects clearly analyzable 
into these more elemental sensations, simple experiences of 
pleasantness and unpleasantness, and the early life of im- 
pulse and mstinct and the formation of habits. Then, after 
examining more carefully the nature of these general char- 
acteristics of mind, attention and interest, referred to above, 
the examination may be profitably made as to how these 
enter into the more complex mental operations such as 
memory, imagination, reasonmg, emotion, and volition. 

As was said above, while advantage will be taken of the 
method of tracing the development from earlier to later 
stages of mental life, yet the main task of the book will be 
to tell the story of the concrete mental states or conscious 
processes as the normal mmd, beyond the earliest forma- 
tive stages, experiences them. 

If we can accurately understand the nature of the con- 
scious life as it goes on, the way it develops, the laws of 
its behavior, the normal growth of knowledge, the condi- 
tions of the natural progress of the individual in the ways 
of emotion, interest, the forming and fulfilling of motives, 
of ideals, and of determinations, psychological knowledge 
can play that practical part m life which it would seem 
natural to expect of it. In any business or act in which 
one is engaged in connection with his fellow men, his acts 
should be more intelligent and effective for this knowl- 
edge of the natural behavior of the mind. The teacher, 
among others, should be able to act the more wisely in 



30 AN INTKODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

the way of helping the development of the mental process 
of those under his guidance, so. that the pupils may achieve 
the most and become the most efficient in all the best ways 
of knowledge, attitude, and conduct. 

Before proceeding with the further discussion of the 
nature of conscious states, however, it will be necessary 
to call to mind some of the facts which the science of 
physiology furnishes. We must examine to a certain ex- 
tent that upon which all conscious life depends, namely 
our bodies, and more especially the nervous system and 
the sense organs. The organism is a unit. It must not 
be thought of as mind plus body, or mental processes 
plus physical processes, in any externally related way. 
The organism called man is a mind-body affair, a unitary 
psycho-physical organism. This close, inseparable connec- 
tion of the mental with the physical life has already been 
dwelt upon. Conscious processes live and have their being 
as part and parcel of the whole organism. The connection 
between the simpler forms of conscious life, sensation, 
pleasantness and unpleasantness, and even perception and 
memory, on the one hand, and the bodily organs and the 
nervous system on the other, seems very close mdeed. In 
habit and instmct, too, it is difficult to separate these two 
aspects, mental and physical, and this very difficulty points 
to the unity of the two and is a warning against a pos- 
sible violent separation. 

It is not so obvious, perhaps, but none the less true, 
that the higher and more complex forms of conscious 
life, such as the association of ideas, reasonmg, emotion, 
deliberation, and decision, are just as closely related to 
the nervous system and just as much an integral part 
of the whole organism as are the sunpler forms men- 
tioned above. 



GENEEAL NATURE OF CONSCIOUSNESS 31 

In order that the whole matter may be better understood, 
it is now desirable to proceed with a brief account of the 
structure and functions of the nervous system. 



EEFERENCES 

James. Psychology, Briefer Course, Chapter XI. 

RoYCE. Outlines of Psychology, Chapter IV. 

Dewey. Psychology, Chapter II. 

JuDD. Psychology, Chapter IV. 

Thorndike. Elements of Psychology, Chapters VII and VIII. 

Sully. The Human Mind, Chapter IV. 

Miller. The Psychology of Thinking, Chapters I and II. 



CHAPTER III 
THE N^ERVOUS SYSTEM 

General function. By means of the nervous system we 
are stimulated or affected by our environment ; we are made 
aware of that environment and of its relation to us ; and 
under its guidance and by its help we are enabled to act 
upon that environment in various ways more or less useful 
to ourselves. 

The lowest forms of animal life are not endowed with 
nervous systems, and their movements and life functions 
are very simple. They are irritable, indeed : that is, they 
are susceptible to some forms of stimulation, and they do, 
of course, make certain necessary movements in response 
to these stimulations from their environment ; but these re- 
sponses are crude and are certainly not ready and resource- 
ful ; the organisms concerned are in no way masters of 
their environments, but have their lives determined by 
what their environment supplies them with. The difference 
between the life of one of these lowest animal forms and 
that of the higher animals, and even of man, is largely in 
the possession by the latter of a highly developed nervous 
organism, and in the complete lack of it by the former. 

As we ascend in the scale of life we find the nerve cells 
gradually being developed and becoming more and more 
a well-marked-off part of the organism. As they grow 
more complex, they become more and more effective, and 
the resulting movements more varied and resourceful. 
The higher the animal in the scale of life and the more 
developed and complex the nervous system becomes, the 
more is he master of his movements and his fate. 

32 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 33 

In man we find the most highly developed nervous 
system, and along with it, of course, the greatest capacity 
for response to his environment, both in the ways of being 
affected by it and in the myriad ways of effective and ad- 
vantageous response. Man, too, marks the highest level in 
the series in the size and quality of that most important 
part of the nervous system, — the brain. The higher up in 
the scale of animal development the organism is, the greater 
the size and weight of the brain in proportion to the size 
and weight of the body. Undoubtedly, too, the quality 
and amount of consciousness has a similar progress. Man's 
highly developed nervous system and large and complicated 
brain mean that his life and conduct are consciously directed 
in the most complete sense. The intimate connection be- 
tween the nervous system in man and his various states of 
consciousness has been spoken of in Chapter II, and per- 
haps calls for no further comment here. It is a matter of 
common knowledge and needs at tliis time no especial evi- 
dence to be cited as proof. 

The neurone. The nervous system is, of course, a part 
of the whole bodily organism and acts in conjunction with 
it. In order to understand its nature it should be thought 
of in terms of its composition or parts. It is composed of 
cell units called neurones, varying in length from a small 
fraction of an inch to over a yard. These neurones are 
composed of two parts, the nerve cell proper, or cell body, 
and their fibrous elongations called nerve fibers. These 
fibers, in turn, are of two sorts. Each cell body has one 
well-marked fiber which is called the axone, or axis-cylinder 
process, which has few branches and these rather regular 
and going out at right angles from the main axone. The 
other fibers connected with the cell body are called den- 
drites, are likely to be many in number, and branch out in 



34 



AX INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 



a very bushy, tree-top-like way. The cell body with its 
axone and its dendrites make up the true nerve cell or 
neurone. The nervous system is, then, simply a great ag- 
gregation of these neurones, about eleven billions having 
been given as an estimate of their number. When the 
nervous system is thought of in this way rather than as a 




Pig. 1. A group of neurones . 



A and C, from the cerebellum ; B, from the gray matter of the spinal cord ; 
B, from the cerebrmii ; a, the axone ; remainder, cell body and dendrites 

pulpy, stringy mass, it is much easier to understand its 
structure and its ways of working. 

Gross parts of the nervous system. Perhaps a more com- 
mon way of regarding the nervous system is to think of its 
gross structures. In so doing it must not be forgotten that 
each of these parts is composed of the nerve cells or neurones. 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 35 

Looked at in this way of gross structures, the nervous system 
is composed of the brain, consisting of several parts as we 
shall see later, and the spinal cord, — these two constituting 
the central nervous system ; the sympathetic system ; and 
the so-called nerves connecting the brain and the spinal cord 
with the sense organs and the muscles. 

In describing the nature and general structure of the 
nervous system, it may be well to follow the order sug- 
gested by the general well-known functions of the different 
parts. It will be of help to keep in mind the fact that the 
whole nervous system is just a superb piece of mechanism 
for the receiving of stimuli from the outer world, for. the 
transferring and dispatching of these nervous impulses, and 
for convertmg them into motor responses of such a sort 
that the whole organism may receive 'the benefit of its high- 
grade nervous constitution, in the way of better adapting 
it to the conditions of its life and of making such changes 
in those conditions that it may have a fuller and richer life. 

Sensory nerves. To begin, then, with the nervous fila- 
ments which receive stimulations. These nerves are dis- 
tributed to all the sensitive parts of the body and, indeed, 
make that sensitiveness possible. They consist of fine 
whitish threads or filaments which end in various spreading 
branchlike ways in the various sense organs, the skin, the 
retina of the eye, the tongue, etc. These are the fibrous 
elongations of the neurones spoken of above. "A frayed- 
out bit of string " they have been likened to. Following 
along from the sense organs inward, we find these fibers 
uniting into bundles, eventually forming a nerve cable or 
trunk. These nerve trunks, with the exception of those in 
the head, make their way to the spinal cord. The nerve 
trunks which carry the stimulations from the sense organs 
situated in the head, — the eyes, ears, tongue, etc., — 



36 AH mTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 




Fig. 2. The brain from below (the base of the brain). Gross structures 
and cranial nerves are shown 

I, cei'ebrum ; II, cerebellum; III, pons Varolii; IV, medulla, or bulb; V, 
spinal cord ; 1, olfactory nerve, the nerve of smell; 2, optic nerve, the nerve 
of sight; 3, 4, 6, nerves sux^plying the muscles of the eyeball; 5, sensory 
nerve of face (mainly) ; 7, motor nerve of face ; 8, auditory nerve, the nerve 
of hearing (mainly) ; 9, sensory part is nerve of taste, motor part connected 
with pharynx; 10, 11, nerves with various sensory and motor functions; 
12, motor nerve to tongue muscles 

fiiid their way directly to the brain and are called cranial 
nerves. These fibrous filaments used for conveying stimu- 
lations to tlie brain and spinal cord are called sensory or 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 37 

afferent nerves, or nerve courses. They are also called 
peripheral nerves or neurones, although on this functional 
classification of neurones the name would ap]3ly as well to 
the motor nerve courses of which we shall now speak. The 
name peripheral is used to indicate the fact that they run 
to the periphery or outer regions of the body, while the 
neurones composing the brain and spinal cord are referred 
to as the central nervous system. 

Motor nerves. The nerve filaments or courses which 
convey the nervous impulses from the nerve centers out to 
the voluntary muscles we may call the motor nervous ap- 
paratus. They are also called efferent nerves. In general 
appearance, size, color, and the forming into bundles or 
trunks they are like the sensory nerves. They may be traced 
from the brain to the muscles of the head, and also from 
the spinal cord to the various muscles all over the trunk 
and limbs. They are to be found, like the sensory nerves, 
leaving the cord in bundles at regular intervals along its 
length. There are thirty-one pairs of these nerves, sensory 
and motor, passing out from the spinal cord. There are 
twelve of the cranial nerves, some sensory, for example the 
olfactory nerve, or nerve of smell, the optic nerve, or nerve 
of sight ; some motor, for example the facial nerve, gov- 
ernmg the muscles of the face, and others which contain 
both sensory and motor filaments. For cranial nerves see 
Fig. 2. 

The spinal cord. One peculiarity of the sensory nerve 
trunks is that on each one of them just before entering the 
cord is an enlargement composed of the cell bodies of the 
nerve fibers making up that particular, nerve trunk. These 
are called sensory ganglia, and are mentioned here because, 
although outside the cord itself, they are most easily thought 
of as practically a part of it. These ganglia are not found 



38 AN INTKODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

on the motor trunks, as the cell bodies of the motor nerves 
are found within the cord itself. 

The spinal cord extends along the vertebral column, in 
the spinal canal, from the medulla at the base of the brain 
as far as the last lumbar vertebra, its average length being 
about a foot and a half. A cross section shows the general 
interior arrangement of the neurones making up the cord. 
It is nearly circular in appearance, with deep indentations 
front and back. The outer portions of the cord are great 
bundles of fibers running in the main up and down the 
cord. The back part of the outer portions of the cord is 
composed of fibers along which currents pass up to the 
bram, the afferent or sensory fibers. These find their way 
to the medulla, or bulb, — which is practically an enlarge- 
ment of' the cord at the base of the brain, — and, crossing 
over here, finally come to that side of the brain, right or 
left, opposite the side of the body from which originated the 
stimuli that they carry. The front part of the outer portion 
of the cord is likewise composed of fibrous filaments, and 
along these pass the currents from the brain, to be taken 
in turn by the motor courses as they leave the cord to 
connect with the muscles. These bundles of fibers formmg 
the outer portion of the cord are the so-called white matter 
of the cord. 

The interior portion of the cord is grayish in appearance 
and is mainly composed of the cell bodies of countless 
neurones. They are microscopically small. They occupy 
less than half the area of the cross section of the cord, and 
are arranged in the way illustrated by the shaded portion, 
or H, of the diagram. See Fig. 3. 

Tracing the sensory neurones from the spinal ganglia, 
we find them entering the cord, but, not to any great ex- 
tent going into the gray matter of the cord. They usually 



THE NEEVOUS SYSTEM 



39 



branch, going downward and upward, along the white 
matter in the back part of the cord. Some of them sooner 
or later find their way into the gray matter of the cord, 
but many find their way directly to the bram, as has been 
indicated above. Many of the neurones of the cord are 
connecting tracts or intermediaries between the sensory and 
motor courses. The axones of the cells in the horns of the 
cord in front go du^ectly out to the muscle fibers they control. 




Fig. 3. The spinal cord with roots of nerve trunks 

A, segment of cord from ventral side (front) ; B, segment of cord laterally; 

C, the two roots of a spinal nerve ; D, cross section of cord ; 1, ventral fissure ; 

2, dorsal fissure ; 3, dorsal or sensory roots ; 4, ventral or motor roots ; 5, 

ganglion on dorsal root ; 6, nerve trunks ; 7, gray matter ; 8, white matter 

We have indicated that the fibrous whitish courses have 
as their function the carrying of nervous impulses to and 
from the brain. The main function of the cell bodies form- 
ing the gray matter of the cord is to receive and send out 
again the various nervous currents. Certain reflex acts are 
controlled by these cell bodies. That is, some of the sensory 
currents are received by these cell bodies, and are immedi- 
ately transferred to those motor courses which also have a 
functional connection with them. This is done without 



40 AK INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

" leave or license " on the part of the brain. The knee jerk' 
is an example of a reflex act thus provided for. The chief 
office of the cell bodies, however, seems to be that of serv- 
ing as a kind of halfway house for the sensory currents on 
their way to the brain, and for the motor currents on their 
way from the brain to the muscles. While the receiving 
and dispatching of the nervous currents seems to be the 
chief business of the cell bodies of the neurones in the cord, 
those cell bodies — or it may be the few fibers mingled 
with them — act in part as carriers of nervous currents. 

In the cord, as elsewhere in the nervous system, when the 
nervous impulse is transferred from one neurone to another 
we must not think that the neurones are really united. 
They are anatomically distinct, as the physiologists say. 
But all the same the current passes from the tiny, fibril- 
like endings of the axones to the fine " feelers " or bushy 
branchings of the dendrites, picked up as it were by the 
latter. This place of transfer is called a synapsis, or clasp- 
ing. Another point to notice is that between the various 
parts of the body the nervous connections are not very 
direct, but constitute what has been called a system of 
relays. 

The brain. Next in order in our brief sketch of the struc- 
, ture and functions of the nervous system is its most impor- 
tant part, — the brain. It consists of countless numbers of 
neurones, so arranged that the mass of white fibrous tissue 
is on the inside, while the covering or rind consists of the 
mass of grayish cell bodies fitting mto all the folds and 
fissures of the brain. The parts of the brain other than the 
cerebral hemispheres, namely the medulla, the pons Varolii, 
the cerebellum or little brain, and others, need not be taken 
much into the account. As we have said, the medulla is 
really an enlargement of the cord at the base of the brain. 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 



41 



The fibers from the spinal cord pass through the medulla 
on the way to the higher ranges of the brain. The cell 
bodies of the medulla control a number of reflex acts. 
There is a considerable crossing over of the fibers in the 
medulla as mentioned above, on the part of both sensory 
and motor tracts. The medulla is only about an inch and a 
quarter long and 
is shaped some- 
what like an in- 
verted truncated 
cone, with deep 
fissures along its 
sides. Next above 
the medulla is the 
pons, a bridge of 
fibers, as it were, 
between the me- 
dulla and the 
higher regions of 
the brain. Many 
of the cranial 
nerves come out 
of the medulla 
and the pons. 
Back of the pons 
is the cerebellum. 
Its connections 
with the brain and spinal cord are also through the pons. 
The function of the cerebellum is not well known, although 
it has been shown that it has much to do with making our 
actions smooth and accurate rather than rough and awkward. 
For the student of the mind the large cerebral hemi- 
spheres filling almost the whole of the skull cavity are the 




Fig. 4. The human brain viewed from above. 

Tlie cerebral hemispheres completely cover the 

rest of the brain 



42 AN mTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

important part of the brain. The cerebrum consists of the 
two large hemispheres, right and left, which are connected 
by white fibrous tissues called the corpus callosum. The 
hemispheres are divided into lobes, the frontal lobes in the 
front part of the skull cavity, the temporal lobes above 
the ears, the parietal lobes about the crown of the head. 




Fig. 5. Median longitudinal section of the human brain 

A, B, C, D, L, convolutions of the median surface of the cerel)rum ; E, F, the 

cerebellum, showing in the plane of section the inner White matter and the 

outer gray matter ; H, the pons Varolii ; K, the medulla 

and the occipital lobes at the back part where the skull 
begins to curve in toward the neck. The position of the 
great fissures or deep canals of the surface of the brain 
can best be learned from the diagram. It will be seen that 
the fissure of Sylvius separates the temporal lobe from 
the frontal and the parietal, while the fissure of Rolando is 
between these two latter. See Fier. 7. 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 



43 



The cerebrum. The cerebrum is a most complex and 
delicate organ. Its cortex is the great receiver of stimula- 
tions from the sensory tracts, the great dispatcher of currents 
along the motor 
courses, while, even 
more important, its 
neurones are the great 
connecting factors be- 
tween the sensory and 
the motor courses. 
The larger part of the 
cerebral hemispheres 
is composed of these 
connectmg neurones or 
tracts. There are hun- 
dreds of millions of 
these brain neurones, 
and each cell body is 
richly supplied with 
the fine fibril, branch- 
like endings, the fray- 
ings of the strings. 

Notwithstanding 
their great number 
there is a great per- 
fection of arrangement 
among these bram cells, 
and system in their 
behavior. There is a 
division of labor among- 




Fig. 6. A portion of the gray matter (cor- 
tex) of the cerebrum (highly magnified). 
After Kolliker 

the various parts of Note the large number of dendrites. The axones 
the cerebral rind or ^'"^ *'^^ fibers of uniform diameter running 
lengthwise of the drawing. One of these cells 



cortex, it having been 



is shown in Fig. 1, D 



44 



AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 



shown by physiologists that there are certain parts espe- 
cially and directly concerned with receiving sight stimula- 
tions, other parts with receiving the various other sensory 
currents, while there is a motor zone fairly well marked 
off whose different parts control movements in the head, 
the arms, the trunk, and the legs respectively. Many parts 

of the cortex, 
however, are 
concerned with 
our perceptions, 
memories, etc., 
besides these 
receiving places 
for sense stim- 
ulations ; many 
with our 
thought about 
our conduct, be- 
sides the motor 

Fig. 7. Left side of brain, outer surface, showing centers imme- 
lobes, fissures, and cliief sensory and motor areas d lately COn- 
1, frontal lobe ; 2, parietal lobe ; 3, occipital lobe ; 4, cerned ; while 

the connecting 
neurones are in 
number and 
complexity past computation. The whole brain is more or 
less concerned m the activity of any part, and the mutual 
mfluences between the various parts are very subtle. 

The motor region, that is the cortical cells controlling 
movements, seems to be situated along the front side of the 
fissure of Rolando. The sensory region is to be found in 
parts of all the other lobes except the frontal. The occipital 
lobe is especially concerned in sight, the temporal lobe in 




temporal lobe ; 5, cerebellum ; 6, medulla; 7, fissure 
of Sylvius ; 8, fissure of Rolando ; M, motor areas ; 
S, sensory areas ; SA, sensory auditory area ; S V, sen- 
sory visual area 



THE KEEVOUS SYSTEM 



45 




Fig. 8. Fibers connecting different 

parts of cerebral cortex with 

one another 

1, fibers between near-by regions; 2, 

The inside Alters between frontal and occipital 



hearing. The frontal lobes seem to be the especial regions 
of intellectual activity of the higher sort, while the frontal 
and the parietal lobes con- 
tain what are called the 
association areas. The cor- 
tex of the cerebrum, while 
only about one eighth of 
an inch, or less, in thick- 
ness, covers a much greater 
area than the size of the 
skull would indicate, on 
account of its dipping into 
the folds and fissures of the 
brain tissue. ^..^ ^.„...v. . „ „, , ^ ^ ^ -, ^ 

regions; o, fibers between frontal and 
part of the brain, the white temporal regions ; 4, fibers between 

matter the so-rallerl assori- occipital and temporal regions ; 5, corpus 
matter, tne so caifea asSOCl callosum, the fibrous tracts connecting 

ating or connecting tracts or the hemispheres 

fibers, form, as was said 
above, the main bulk of 
the hemispheres. They 
connect the two hemi- 
spheres, connect the lower 
parts of the brain with 
the sensory and the 
motor areas on the 
cortex, connect neigh- 
bors on the cortex, sen- 
sory, and motor, connect 
each and all of these p^j. 9. fibers connecting the cerebral 
with the various higher cortex with lower brain 

centers in the frontal 
lobes and elsewhere. 
See Figs. 8 and 9. 




1, fibers from frontal region to pons; 2, 

motor fibers ; 3, sensory fibers, touch ; 4, 

sensory fibers, sight; 5, sensory fibers, 

hearing 



46 AN mTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

The sympathetic system. The nervous system is com- 
posed, as stated above, of the brain, the spinal cord, and 
the peripheral neurones of the sensory and motor sort, and 
in addition to these, the sympathetic nervous system, about 
which a few words ought to be said here. It is, of course, 
composed of nerve cells or neurones like all nerve tissue. 
It is located, in part, near the spinal cord, running up and 
down in two groups of strings, one on each side of the cord. 
Then there are sets of ganglia in various parts of the trunk, 
more or less connected together, more or less isolated. 
These neurones composing the sympathetic system seem 
to act somewhat in conjunction with the brain and spinal 
cord, and in part independently. They are the nervous 
basis of the so-called automatic activities of the important 
life functions of breathing, digestion, the circulation of the 
blood, etc. 

For the purposes of psychology the activities of the cor- 
tex of the cerebrum, that is of the neurones composing it, 
are all important. On these activities consciousness depends. 
Any activity in the organs of sense, or m any of the cells 
lower than the cortex of the cerebrum, is felt m conscious- 
ness only as it leads to activity in the cortical neurones 
themselves. There may be some portions of this cortex 
itself which are not so honored, and certainly there are 
stimulations of its neurones which are too mild to be 
reported in our conscious life. It is quite possible that 
in our dream life and in certain diseased conditions some 
activities of the neurones below the cortex may be re- 
ported in consciousness, and that in our ordinary life 
such activities may have an obscure influence upon our 
general mental tone ; but in general it may be said that 
every conscious state is based upon activities in the 
cerebral cortex. 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 47 

Properties and functions of the neurones. After this brief 
description of the structure and functions of the nervous 
apparatus it may be well to point out more particularly- 
certain qualities or characteristics of the neurones as they 
perform then- tasks. 

First, they are irritable, or sensitive to impressions. They 
receive stimulations from sense organs and from other neu- 
rones. This quality of sensitiveness, possessed by all organic 
cells, belongs in an extreme way to the neurones. It is the 
first condition of their doing their work. 

Second, the neurones are good carriers of this energy by 
which they 'are stimulated and to which they are so sensi- 
tive. This property is called neurility, or conductivity, that 
is, the neurones are conductors of nervous force, or nervous 
currents, or, in other words, possess the transmitting func- 
tion. These currents, whose nature is not at all well known, 
but which have been roughly compared to currents of elec- 
tricity, have a rate of over one hundred feet a second. The 
current is discharged so that some other neurone is affected 
or stimvilated, and the current, or nervous impulse, is carried 
along by it ; or, the cells of a muscle respond in their own 
way to the stimulation received from the neurones with 
which they are connected. The neurones carry the nervous 
currents from the sense organs to the brain, from one part 
of the brain to another, and from the brain to the various 
muscles of the body. It was formerly thought that each 
neurone could transmit only its own particular sort of nerv- 
ous impulse, and that it could not receive or transmit any 
other sort. This has been shown, however, not to be the case. 
Each nerve course carries its own peculiar form of nervous 
impulse on account of its connections, that is the nature 
of the end organ, etc. Of course, each neurone becomes 
more and more susceptible to its accustomed stimulations. 



48 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

the nerves of the special senses acquiring distinct habitual 
tendencies to perform their own sort of work. Both the 
sensitiveness and the neurility or conductivity of the nerve 
courses are to be thought of in an impartial way with re- 
spect to the form of nervous impulse, except in so far as 
their work is determined and the nature of the neurones 
themselves modified by their specific connections. 

The third property, or set of properties, might be called 
the reactiyig function. By reacting is meant the receiving of 
a nervous impulse from a sensory course and a switching of 
the current so that it is carried out along a motor course. 
As this is exhibited in a very simple way by those neurones 
lower than the cerebral cortex, and in a much more com- 
plex way by the cortical cells themselves, the two must be 
described separately. 

The simpler .subcortical reactions, excluding the activi- 
ties of the sympathetic system, are presided over by the 
cell bodies in the lower brain and in the spinal cord. They 
depend upon some definite stimulation of a sensory course 
and have definite ways of motor response. They are thus 
of the reflex type, and are only reported m consciousness 
if for some reason the connected cortical centers happen to 
be stimulated. 

Brain-cell properties. Certain characteristics of the be- 
havior of the brain cells may be noticed. Their great work 
seems to be that of receiving the nervous impulse from the 
sensory nerves and of dispatching currents along the motor 
courses. This does not happen, however, in a mechanical, 
reflex way. The sensory impulses are not only received, but 
they are associated with other brain areas in such a way 
that when the motor current is sent out, or, it may be, with- 
held, the action or refraining from action is much more 
effectively adapted to the exact conditions of life than 




The parts of the nervous system 
represented are the cerebrimr, 
cerebeUum, bulb, and segment 
of the spinal cord, m, m, 
motor neurones to some of 
the muscles of the leg. These 
may be stimulated to coor- 
dinate action by neurones(w) 
from the cerebrum, neurones 
(cb) from the cerebellum, or 
by the afferent (sensory) neu- 
rones («/i) from the tendons, 
etc. In the bulb this affer- 
ent neurone connects with 
a second neurons (a/-), and 
this with a third (a/^), thus 
providing the path to the 
cerebrum and exciting in 
consciousness sensations of 
positions of the leg. The 
same neurones connect with the cere- 
bellum, as do also the neurones from the 
inner ear. The student should trace the 
course of the nervous impulse from 
the stimulus received by a/^, through 
the parts of the nervous system repre- 
sented, back to muscles through m, m. 

Fig. 10. Diagram of the nervous mechanism of walking 
49 




50 A^T INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

simple reflexes could possibly be. The brain cells thus 
form the register and clearing house of the system, and 
have the responsibility of directing the movements of the 
organism for weal or woe. On the mental side this is con- 
sciousness, perception, thought, feelmg, deliberation, de- 
cision. In performing these general offices the brain cells 
show the property of cooperation for the purpose of con- 
trol, or what might be called harmonizatioyi. While each 
part of the brain has its especial function, that function is 
performed as a detailed piece of work of a well-organized, 
and a harmoniously working, complex affair. 

The other main property which these brain cells show 
is that oi plasticity, or modifiability, — the capacity for learn- 
ing, for profiting by experience, and for acquiring new 
reactions. This property shows itself in two main ways. 
First, by repeated receiving, registering, and dispatching of 
the nervous currents or impulses, the groups of brain cells 
become so arranged, organized, or integrated, that a habit 
is formed of such and such ways of behavior, on account of 
the retention by the brain cells of the modification of struc- 
ture and capacity for be^iavior. The first feature of plas- 
ticity which the cells exhibit, then, is that of habit. The 
plastic elements become more and more fixed in their struc- 
tural arrangement and their ways of action. There is a 
stable organization, a fixed way of response, a uniformity 
of behavior under similar conditions of life and stimulation 
from environment. This is the case in the so-called habitual 
nervous actions, such as manner of walking, of lacing up 
one's shoes, or any of the thousand and one common routine 
acts of life. 

But there is another feature of the case, another way 
that the plastic cells develop. This other feature is that of 
reform and accommodation. Certain groups of cells remain, 



THE NERVOUS SYSTEM 51 

directly or indirectly, very sensitive to many kinds of stim- 
ulations. And as the stimuli are not uniform, neither are 
the responses. There is a less fixed or stable arrangement 
of the cells, and there is less certainty in the matter of 
response. These arrangements of structure and ways of 
behavior are called " higher " than the habitual ones. They 
make possible control of movement and voluntary action. 
They also make possible the breaking up and reform of 
habits. The shifting of the tensions of the nervous impulse 
in the case are many and complex. The higher groups of 
cells are especially active and contribute to the solution of 
the problem of the best possible reaction in the case. The 
reaction is in no sense ready-made, as in the case of habit, 
ft is figured out to suit the emergency, and much thought 
and feeling are involved as the mental side of the affair. 

In connection with this property of accommodation, and 
completing it, is the property of inhibition on the part of 
the higher bram cells. These higher groups of cells have 
the power of arresting or holdmg up the nervous response 
for a shorter or longer time, in order that, after due delib- 
eration, the individual may act advantageously and as he 
determmes. It is essential to the welfare of the organism 
that it should know when not to act, and have the power 
to prevent too sudden and thoughtless a response. There 
is to a certain extent such a connection between the higher 
cells, and the lower ones which are given over to habitual 
reactions, that when occasion calls for it the habitual tend- 
encies may be in great measure controlled by the higher, 
accommodating, inhibiting cell groups. 

Consciousness comes to the rescue of the organism at 
just these places where instinctive and habitual ways of 
controllmg actions are not adequate. The inhibition and 
control of the lower centers by the higher, the checking of 



52 AN INTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

the low-gracle response, is the occasion for states of con- 
sciousness to appear. These states of consciousness do not 
take the place of the high-grade nerve actions in the case, 
but are the regular and necessary partners in the psycho- 
physical activity of these high-grade, accommodating, in- 
hibitory, brain-cell activities. 

In addition, then, to the general properties of sensitivity 
and conductivity of the neurones, we have m the brain 
cells the general property of, cooperative activity or har- 
monization, and that of plasticity which shows itself in the 
development of brain-cell activity in the two ways, — habit 
and accommodation, — while the cells which develop in the 
latter way are commonly thought to possess the property 
of inhibition. 

In the chapters to come we shall have occasion to speak 
further of the behavior of the nervous system in various 
connections, for example in the treatment of sensation, mem- 
ory, feeling, association, etc. In the next chapter its general 
function of plasticity will receive considerable attention, as 
we shall there discuss the simpler adaptive processes of the 
organism, — instinct, impulse, and especially habit. These 
tlu-ee processes are founded in the nature of the nervous 
system. The physiological, psychological, and practical 
aspects of habit will be outlined and their importance 
made clear. 

REEERENCES 

Thorndike. Elements of Psychology, Chapters IX and X. 

Angell. Psychology, Chapter II. 

Halleck. Education of the Central Nervous System, Chapter I. 

JuDD. Psychology, Chapter III. 

Hough and Sedgwick. The Human Mechanism, Chapter XV. 

For a more extended account a large text on physiology should 
be consulted, e.g. Halliburton : Kirkes' Handbook of Physiology 
(twenty-first edition), Chapters VII, XV, XVII, and XLI-L. 



CHAPTER IV 

THE SIMPLE PROCESSES OF ADAPTATION: 
INSTINCT, IMPULSE, AND HABIT 

In this chapter will be considered the primary and fun- 
damental ways of the adaptation of the organism to the 
conditions of its life. With the capital at hand in the 
fact of the nervous system, described in the last chapter, 
the question arises as to the uses to which the capital is 
put to make it most effective. Some of the ways of reaction 
are determined for the organism beforehand by its very 
structure. Others seem to be partially determined, while 
there is also a great deal of free capital to be used as 
each developing individual sees fit. 

Automatic acts. Those ways of action which are deter- 
mined for the individual by his inherited structure are, 
first, those which are extremely fixed in their character, 
the so-called automatic acts. 

These are the necessary life functions of respiration, 
heartbeat and blood circulation, digestion, and processes of 
secretion. These acts have their nervous mechanism in 
the shape of stimulus carried along an afferent course, 
a registering of this by the appropriate nerve-cell groups, 
and a motor response. The stimulus comes from the con- 
dition of the organ concerned, and as the stimulus thus 
comes from within the organism, so is the response made 
in the inner workings of the body itself. Hence the name 
" automatic," as the process is a sort of perpetual-motion 
affair so long as the organism is alive. The nerves concerned 

53 



54 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

work with mechanical precision and are practically in- 
capable of modification. They were thus inherited, and 
the individual has really nothing to say or do about them, 
except, of course, to refrain from disturbing them by his 
own waywardness. Automatic acts are not such as give 
rise to consciousness, unless they are disturbed. This way 
of action on the part of the organism, then, is of neither 
psychological nor practical concern. 

Reflex acts. Another group of acts, very important for 
the adjustment of the organism to its environment, and 
yet over which it has little control, is the group known 
as "reflex acts." The nervous mechanism in the case is 
inherited. The stimulus comes from without, is simple 
in character, and the response is a single act which con- 
sciousness certainly is not responsible for. "When the light 
becomes very bright the iris of the eye contracts. The 
finger which touches the very hot object is quickly drawn 
away. If the sole of the foot is tickled, a quick movement 
takes place. The cough and sneeze are practically irre- 
pressible. Of some reflexes we are unconscious, and of 
others we are aware, but the latter seem as mechanical as 
the former. It is the inherited nervous structure that con- 
trols. This is responsive in each case to a particular form 
of stimulus, and given that, the action takes place. The 
latter statement, however, needs to be modified in the 
case of some reflexes which seem to depend on the con- 
dition of the organism at the time ; as, for instance, the 
reaction to water, according to whether thirst is present 
or not. 

Students of the psychology of children have discovered 
that some reflexes are present at birth, while others are 
not ready for action for days and even months. Profes- 
sor Major, in his careful and mstructive book, " First Steps 



THE SIMPLE PEOCESSES OF ADAPTATION 55 

in Mental Growth," cites the following illustrations of early 
reflex hand movements : 

When J. was four hours old, he firmly clasped a finger which 
was j)laced in the palm of his hand. On E.'s second day, when his 
cheek was lightly touched, his right hand made a quick and strong 
movement toward the face, as if to remove the disturbance. A light 
touch on J.'s forehead, while the child was asleep, caused, on the 
second day, the arm to fly up convulsively, the fingers to extend, 
and twitching of the facial muscles. 

Some reflexes may be modified in part in their expres- 
sion, but the simple, inherited, mechanical response to a 
definite, simple stimulus, independent of consciousness and 
often of the real needs of the whole organism, may be 
taken as the chief characteristic of reflex acts. 

Next must be considered those acts of the organism 
which can be partially determined by the individual, and 
those which are practically free material for the individual 
to mold as he will. Under this general description come 
instinctive and impulsive actions, and it will be the pur- 
pose of this chapter to discuss these forms of action, and 
more especially their development into habit, and the 
formation and meaning of habit in the life of the organism. 
All the life of habit, and for that matter the whole life of 
action, must be developed from the original native tenden- 
cies of the organism. Into the relation between habit and 
these native tendencies, inquiry must, then, be made. In 
a later chapter the nature of the highest ranges of the 
life of action — the will and volition — will be discussed. In 
this chapter its more primary features will receive atten- 
tion. Habit may be said to be the most fundamental fea- 
ture of this life of action, both in the sense that the 
natural tendencies of the organism are with much or little 
modification formed into habits, and in the sense that these 



66 AN IKTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

habits ill turn either determine our willed conduct or fur- 
nish the means for its realization. 

Meaning of habit. The term " habit " is one m very com- 
mon use and one that has a very broad significance. Perhaps 
its most common meaning is a settled, or practically settled, 
way of action. Although this routme aspect of habit is the 
one more commonly thought of, the other aspect is quite as 
important, if not more so. This other aspect is that habit 
is a way of domg something, or, in other words, the ability 
to do that thing. One's habit of walking means ability to 
walk ; of pitching a ball, his measure of ability to pitch the 
ball. The term scarcely needs definition at present. If we 
think of any act that is habitual, or an act which one has 
the skill to perform and practice in performing, such as 
one's way of shaking hands, of swimming, or of writing, any 
habit or practical ability of great or little strength, of 
greater or less importance, enough will be suggested for 
our present purpose. 

Physiological basis of habit. As we saw m Chapter III, 
it is upon the plasticity of the nervous system that all the 
matter of habit rests. The nerve cells get mto more and 
more fixed ways of response to certain stimulations. Both 
in structure and function the plastic neurones become more 
determined. This means, according to our explanation of 
what is meant by habit, that the choice of the organism in 
the way of response gets more certain, fixed, and limited ; 
but it also means mcreased ability on the part of the 
organism to perform its tasks m the way of ever better 
adjustment to the conditions of its life. All formation of 
habits, all the power of control over movements which the 
organism has, all the usmg of habitual powers, partially or 
completely formed, for further purposes of action, is a mat- 
ter, on the physical side, of the development of the nerve 



THE SIMPLE PEOCESSES OF ADAPTATION 57 

cells and their connections in muscles and sense organs. The 
plasticity of the nerve cells is, as we saw in the preceding 
chapter, a property providing not only for ever greater 
fixity in the way of response, but also for the modification, 
reform, and breaking up of these more or less fixed ways of 
response when occasion calls for it. Our discussion of the 
formation and development of habits must keep in view 
this double nature of the general property of plasticity. 

The nature of instinct. It is not easy to distinguish m- 
stinctive reactions from reflex acts. The latter we found 
were not always unalterable, nor yet unattended with con- 
sciousness. When, however, acts of the general reflex type 
become more complex, and when each part of the complex 
series finds its meanmg and value for the organism not in 
itself but as a part of the series, we may speak of the act as 
instmctive. Instincts, too, seem to be attended with more 
of consciousness than reflex acts and are more modifiable, 
or at least many of them are. The nest is built apparently 
without a conscious plan and without previous training. 
The older idea of the complete mystery of instinctive activ- 
ity, and of its being a perfect performance and practically 
unalterable, does not seem to be borne out by modern 
research. It is very closely allied with reflex acts on the 
one hand, and with acquired habits on the other. 

Instincts have been called inherited habits, or racial 
habits ; and whether or not these definitions of instinct 
suggest a correct account of their origm, they seem to 
pomt out important features of their make-up and behavior. 
" Instinct," as James says, " is usually defined as the faculty 
of acting in such a way as to produce ends, without fore- 
sight of the ends, and without previous education m the 
performance." The higher animals are, as we know, the 
possessors of an abundance of instincts by means of which 



58 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

they perform nearly all their activities. Human beings, like- 
wise, are well provided with them ; and by means of them, 
human infants are, with some help, enabled to survive. 

The term " instinct " is somewhat loosely used and covers 
two rather distinct features of life. For instance, we speak 
of the instinct of self-preservation, the instmct of fear, of 
ownership, of pride, of parental love, etc. These are gen- 
eral instinctive, or natural, characteristics possessed by all 
sooner or later under the appropriate conditions. Under 
these general qualities we may classify those specific acts 
which are the instinctive expressions of the general qualities. 
These specific acts — the warding off of a blow, the suck- 
ing of the infant, the chick following the hen and pecking 
for its food, and the like — are more properly referred to as 
instincts. The term is used so generally, however, to indi- 
cate both the general quality and the specific acts that it 
will be better so to use it in our discussion. The context 
will, it is hoped, prevent any confusion in the matter. 

Nervous basis of instinct. As each mstinct is such a defi- 
nite, certain affair in its nature, — the warding off of a blow, 
the dodging of a missile, the chick pecking its food, — there 
must be a very definite nervous organization providing for 
the appropriate act under the circumstances. This organ- 
ization is hereditary, whether ready for complete action 
as soon as the organism is brought into the world or not. 
There is a complete nervous circuit practically ready for 
action. This circuit will consist of a sensory or afferent 
course, appropriate brain or central connections, and a 
motor or efferent course. When the appropriate stimulus 
is presented, — mentally a crude sensation or sense-percep- 
tion, the sight, the sound of the objects, or the way they 
feel, — the nervous impulse or current takes the course 
which nature has provided for it. The definite stimulus is 



THE SIMPLE PROCESSES OF ADAPTATION 59 

connected in the brain with the appropriate expression, and 
so the act is performed. The liereditary character of these 
instincts is nature's provision for saving the hves of human 
beings as well as animals. This nervous arrangement may 
be, and usually is, a complex affair, a number of brain 
cells being involved. 

We may say, then, that in the case of an instinct there 
is an inherited nervous arrangement consisting of a sen- 
sory course connecting with a motor course by a more or 
less complex series of associative tracts ; that there must be 
a definite appropriate stimulus ; and that the response is a 
comparatively fixed affair. This fixity is a firmly decided 
condition with the most deep-set instincts, while with those 
less deeply set the arrangement of centers, the stimulus, 
and the response are much less developed and definite. 
When compared with mechanical reflexes, instincts may 
seem comparatively uncertain in response, rather than fixed ; 
as, for instance, what the child will do when in the pres- 
ence of a dog for the first time. When compared with 
conduct of a deliberative, voluntary sort, the instinctive 
reaction seems very fixed and certain in outcome. The 
dog rather inevitably chases the cat, while the conduct of 
human beings in their dealiags with one another is not 
easily predicted. 

Instinct and impulse. There is, indeed, a gradation in 
this matter of fixedness of arrangement of nervous connec- 
tions, of stimulus, of response, and of complexity. Those 
instincts which are simplest and which are not set into 
action by some one particular kind of stimulus, and which 
do not have any great fixity in the way of response, are 
frequently called impulses. They differ from the more 
deep-set instincts mainly in this matter of degree of fixed- 
ness. The nature and development of these more random 



60 AN INTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

instinctive actions or impulses will be considered in a later 
section of this chapter. The early leg movements which 
develop into the habit of walking may be taken as an ex- 
ample. Also the early cries and noises out of which words 
are made in talking. 

Instincts are all impulsive in their nature in the sense 
that they are active, native tendencies to adjust the organ- 
ism to its environment and the environment to the individ- 
ual's needs. Fear of any object calculated to produce it is, 
as we shall see later, an emotion, but it is impulsive as 
well, and because it is natural and because it leads to defi- 
niteness of action it is called an instinct. It thus happens 
that many such single experiences may, as conscious feel- 
ings, be called emotions ; while, in so far as they are tend- 
encies to act, they are impulsive, and in so far as this action 
tends to be of a particular sort, they are called instincts. 
So rich an affair is our experience that while it may at any 
time seem simple, various aspects of it have to be described 
by different names and under different topics. 

Early and late appearance of instincts. It would be a 
mistake to suppose that all of our instincts appear in the 
very early life of the individual. Each seems to come to 
fullness of capacity for exercise when the mdividual organ- 
ism needs it to adjust itself more exactly and fully to its 
environment. There is not space here to trace the time 
of appearance of each instinctive tendency. The sucking 
instmct has its proper time, so that of play, of mating, 
of ownership. Some instmcts are present in the early 
helpless period of infancy, when they are essential to the 
very existence of the child. Many of them cease to be of 
use and are left behind as the development goes on. Some 
are always useful, such as dodging a missile. Some, such 
as ownership and pride, — instincts m the sense of general 



THE SIMPLE PROCESSES OF ADAPTATION 61 

tendencies of the individual, — are dominant throughout 
one's hfe, now reacting in one way, now iii another, as 
the demands of hfe call for them and new occasions afford 
new exercise. This matter of the early and late appearance 
of instincts, their having a time of greatest strength and of 
decay, has important practical and educational bearings, as 
we shall see later. 

Instinct and habit. We are now in a position to see the 
very close relation between instinct and habit. In a general 
way it may be said that mstincts develop into habits. It 
must be remembered that the most deep-set instincts are 
already, for the individual, practically fixed ways of re- 
sponse, so that little development or modification is either 
possible or necessary. A little experience, however, m the 
exercise of instincts does lead generally to modification, or 
at least restricts the scope of their exercise. To quote from 
James : " When objects of a certain class elicit from an 
animal a certam sort of reaction, it often happens that the 
animal becomes partial to the first specimen of the class on 
which it has reacted, and will not afterwards react on any 
other specimen." James cites the selection on the part of 
the animal of a particular hole to live in, a particular mate, 
the nesting of a bird on the same bough time after time. 
It is the same way with human beings m the matter of 
their homes, etc. Before reacting on the particular features 
of the environment the instinct exists in a more general 
miscellaneous way. After such reactions there is a habit- 
ual definiteness about the activity which it did not possess 
before. Instincts may thus be modified by experience and 
develop into habits. " A habit once grafted on an instinc- 
tive tendency restricts the range of the tendency itself and 
keeps us from reacting on any but the habitual object, 
although other objects might just as well have been chosen 



62 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

had they been the first coiners." The more general the in- 
stinct is ill its nature, — that is, if it exists merely as a gen- 
eral tendency, — the more will it be modified and molded 
by experience into a habit or- a set of habits. The more un- 
formed it is, the more necessary is experience to mold the 
random movements into useful habits. This feature of 
the case will be discussed in the treatment of impulse and 
the formation of habits. 

Another important feature of the relation of instinct 
to habit arises from the waxmg and waning of instincts 
already spoken of. Favorable opportunities, arising when 
the instinctive tendency is most active, will naturally lead 
very easily to the formation of habits along those lines. If 
favorable opportunities for exercise do not thus present 
themselves, the habit will not be formed and the instinct 
will probably die for lack of exercise. Take the case of the 
boy and the possibility of fislimg. There comes a time in 
the life of the young boy when, encouraged by the exam- 
ple of others, nothing m the world seems to fit m with his 
natural bent like going a-fishing, say for brook trout. If 
he has the chance to go and if the conditions are generally 
favorable, he will very likely develop a rather strong brook- 
trout-fishing habit that may last all his life. If there is no 
chance for him in the matter of this form of sport, he will 
fail to develop a habit of fishing, and, when full grown, will 
wonder what enjoyment others can find in such an inane 
business. 

If early instinctive tendencies result very unpleasantly, 
the tendency will be decidedly inhibited. If the dog bites 
or the cat scratches, when stroked by the little child, the 
probabilities are that very little strokmg will be done, 
and the habit of stroking dogs and cats will fail to be 
formed. 



THE SIMPLE PROCESSES OF ADAPTATION 63 

Further principles involved in this matter of the relation 
of habit and instinct, and further explanation of the features 
here spoken of, will be brought out more fully later in the 
chapter. The important features which have already been 
brought out with respect to the nature of instincts are the 
following : 

1. They are ready for exercise without previous educa- 
tion in their performance. 

2. An instinct may exist as a general tendency of the 
organism, or it may be a decidedly definite, specific affair. 

3. Instincts are provided for by an inherited nervous 
arrangement calling for a definite, particular sort of stim- 
ulation and giving particular, definite responses. 

4. There is a greater and less fixity in the matter of 
nervous arrangement, stimulation, and response, the former 
belonging to the instincts as we commonly speak of them, 
and the latter to what are, perhaps, better termed impulses, 
though all instincts are impulsive or active. 

5. Instincts may be early or late in appearing, and last 
a longer or a shorter time. 

6. Instinct and habit are most closely related, in that 
instincts tend to be more or less modified by experience, 
and thus develop mto habits if they have a chance for 
exercise. Otherwise, they are likely to die out and habits 
along such lines are not formed. 

Impulse and the formation of habit. The nature of habit 
and the manner of its formation may best be considered in 
connection with the development of those freer, less defi- 
nitely organized, more simple tendencies of the individual 
which we have called impulses. While the higher animals 
may rival man m the possession of instincts, the young 
human being is far superior to the animal in the possession 
of these free, indefinite, unorganized impulses. It is upon 



64 AN INTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

these, mainly, that the human infant's development along 
the lines of habit, knowledge, and conduct depends. The 
question then arises, how do these impulses develop into 
habits ? By habit, as explained above, is meant not only 
a customary, regular way of doing something, but the ability 
to do the thing in that way ; or, in other words, habit con- 
sists of such a control over muscles that the act can be 
effectively performed. 

For illustration, take the familiar case of the infant learn- 
ing to reach out for and grasp an object. The sense stimuli 
coming through the eyes naturally awaken some response 
of the motor sort. But here there is no well-formed instinct, 
as m the case of the chick at the sight of the corn. Several 
impulsive motor tendencies of a random, struggling sort 
tend to appear. Legs, arms, head, body, are all set more 
or less in motion, — motion of a random, meffective sort. 
The reason, nervously, for these random movements seems 
to be that the sensory stimulus, not being connected with 
a particular, definite motor response, overflows, as it were, 
into many channels, setting many muscles into motion at 
once. The same uncontrolled condition will be seen later 
in the case of a person in emotional excitement, before he 
settles down into effective action in the case. The problem 
becomes that of mhibiting or keeping quiet the great major- 
ity of these movements, and of selecting, encouraging, and 
putting together, or coordinating, the few arm and hand 
movements which we describe in our adult, knowing way 
as reaching for and grasping the object seen. The child 
solves the problem by keeping up all or many of the 
movements until something happens. The " something " 
that happens is the hand's chance coming in contact with 
the object. When this takes place, even once, there is 
a decided instinctive tendency to grasp that which the 



THE SIMPLE PROCESSES OE ADAPTATION 65 

hand touches. This chance contact and grasping means 
everything. This is success, this is most satisfying. The 
achievement has put upon it the great premium of the ac- 
companying tlirill of satisfaction. The achievement seems 
to be due only in small measure to conscious control. The 
nervous organism itself seems to " get the hang " of the suc- 
cessful response. The pleasurable thrill is rather the mclex 
that the object is attained. This act, or series of movements, 
tends to be repeated, and the other unnecessary movements 
tend to disappear. Of course tliis does not take place all 
at once. The child does the clever reaching one day, and 
seems unable to do it the next. The useless movements are 
more or less kept up for a considerable time. But the try- 
try-again attitude is still present. Again the lucky combi- 
nation of movements arrives. There begins to dawn upon 
the child some consciousness of what it feels like and what 
it looks like to reach for that object and to come m con- 
tact with it and grasp it. There comes gradually to be 
established a connection between the sight of the object 
and the series of movements which succeeded in grasping 
the object. The child tends to repeat, and repeat again, 
this connected series of successful efforts. They please, and 
are thus unconsciously selected for use. The other move- 
ments, being of no especial use, tend to drop out. Their 
energy is no longer called for. 

Learning to reach for and grasp an object thus seems to 
involve many random impulses gradually molded into shape, 
developmg into a control over muscles which we call habit. 
The general tendency to reach and grasp is also an instinct, 
but one that requires practice to develop and make perfect. 
"Reaching and grasping," says Professor Major, "do not come 
forth full-fledged. They afford an excellent illustration of the 
slow development and perfection of an mstmctive tendency." 



66 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

"Beginning with R.'s tenth week observations were 
made of his impulse to reach and grasp a colored tassel 
which was frequently suspended within reaching distance 
of the child as he lay in his crib. From the first the sight 
of the object pleased him, calling forth arm-flourishing. 
In some of the arm flourishes the hand came in contact 
with the tassel, and on two different days during the 
tenth week it seemed that the child tried to grasp the 
object. . . . 

" In the thirteenth week when they (objects held in front 
of him) did touch his hands the desire to get hold of 
them seemed to arise at once." In the sixteenth week 
"when toys were held in front of the child he tlirew his 
arms about ; and if, in so doing, he chanced to grasp the 
object, it was held. By the end of the seventeenth week, 
reaching and grasping were well established, needing only 
practice to render them sure and steady." 

After this general fashion, sooner or later, in an even 
more simple or vastly more complex way, are our habits 
and ways of performing all sorts of actions formed and 
developed. It is just because we have such an enormous 
number of these natural, more or less random, impulses, 
that we can develop from them so many simple and com- 
plex kinds of actions that will be of the greatest use to us 
in all the emergencies of living. And it is just because we 
are endowed with these random impulses, rather than with 
completely fashioned instincts, that we, as human beings, 
are capable of learning so much. For this learning we have 
the very long period of infancy and development as com- 
pared with that of the animals. 

Concerning this development of impulses into habits a 
few features may be mentioned, suggested for the most 
part by the example just spoken of. 



THE SIMPLE PEOCESSES OF ADAPTATION 67 

1. Impulses may be called into exercise by some stimu- 
lation from without, as the sight of the object in the in- 
stance quoted. They may also, it seems, be the expression 
of a general inward, organic restlessness, shown in wrig- 
gling movements of legs, arms, etc., and in crude vocal 
utterances. 

2. These impulsive movements take place in an excessive, 
prodigal way at first. 

3. For the performance of a definite useful act a few of 
these impulsive movements must be chosen and connected, 
and many inhibited. 

4. This selection takes place by chance success, which 
puts the premium of satisfaction on the fortunate com'bina- 
tion, the discount of failure and dissatisfaction on the un- 
availing movements. 

5. The process is repeated till at last success is secured 
and the habit of performing the act (in our example, the 
reaching for the object), or the ability to do it, has been 
acquired, the child by his own activity thus adjusting him- 
self to his environment. 

Imitation, suggestion, and play. Some further examina- 
tion of the factors involved in the development of impulses 
into habits, or capabilities of action, may be spoken of. Much 
of this development takes place under the influence of the 
general instinctive tendency of the child to imitate. The 
child, we hear it said, is a born mimic. The greater part 
of this imitation is unconscious. In the imitative acts of 
the child, the place of the object reached for, in our exam- 
ple, is taken by an act of parent, other child, or some one 
else. This act must be imitated, learned, repeated. Here 
also the try -try-again attitude is brought to the front. Take 
the case of the child learning to talk. Sounds of a crude 
nature are being produced. Some word is spoken carefully. 



68 AN INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

slowly, by the parent. Such simple words as "papa," 
"mamma," are usually tried first. These are much like 
some of the instinctive babblings of the child. The child 
tries to sound the word, tries again, repeats, modifies, until 
his utterance is much like the copy. His copying is simply 
a modifying and a combining of his own vocal utterances. 
At first, as Stout says, "the child's imitative actions tend 
to resemble his own previous performances rather than 
his model." A premium is put upon the child's successful 
efforts. The repetition of the copy, the smiles and general 
attitude of approval of the parents as the trial approaches 
perfection, the satisfaction of the child as the sounds of 
model and performance become more and more alike, — 
all these things tend to the development of the proper 
habit or power. Other examples would show practically 
the same process. When the imitation becomes more con- 
scious, the process does not change. 

When the child has thus obtained control of many move- 
ments, when he has thus a considerable stock of habits and 
capabilities, and when his mental life is stronger, he begins 
to attempt many acts which are no longer directly imitative 
but are in some way suggested to him. An idea of doing 
some particular act is presented to him. He is now able to 
show his originality somewhat. He experiments. He uti- 
lizes his old powers and habits in new combinations to try 
to work out his idea. In so far as he succeeds in working 
out his idea, he gets further control of his powers, his 
random impulsive tendencies. He becomes freer, more 
independent, in working to his ends and purposes the sug- 
gested ideas, than in the more slavish imitation. 

Next comes the real play of the child. Here he uses his 
stock of habits which he has acquired in his first adjust- 
ments to his environment, in his imitative activities, and in 



THE SIMPLE PROCESSES OF ADAPTATION 69 

his further attempts which are the result of suggestions. 
Here he is even more free in his activity. He combmes 
and recombines in all sorts of ways, as occur to his imagi- 
nation, all his capabilities. He is guided much by imita- 
tion m that he sees what others are domg at work or play, 
and by suggestion in bemg told about the play. But in 
whatever channel his imagination runs, he is ever, with all 
his free spontaneous powers, striving to realize new ends 
and purposes ; that is, is ever forming new habits and de- 
veloping new powers. In these plays he begins to learn 
himself and his world pretty thoroughly, the thorouglmess 
depending largely upon the freedom, the spontaneity, and 
the delight of the occupation. We thus see that in addi- 
tion to the direct adjustment to environment on the part of 
the child, in getting control of his natural random impulses 
and forming them into habits and capabilities, we have as 
further guiding principles in this process the deep-lying in- 
stinctive tendencies toward unconscious and conscious imita- 
tion, toward the more ideational working out of suggestion 
from others, and toward that great life of play — active, 
spontaneous, and delightful — in which the child learns so 
thoroughly so many new useful habits and capabilities. 

Habit as nerve functioning. Let us now return to the 
discussion in an earlier part of this chapter and see more 
carefully, and in terms of the plasticity of the nervous sys- 
tem, how all this development of impulses, and instinct as 
well, mto habits takes place. We can then proceed to con- 
sider the further mental and practical features of habit, the 
importance of habit from a practical and educational point 
of view, and some suggestions as to the training of habit. 

We have seen that specific instinctive acts are practically 
inherited habits of action, and that, while they are some- 
what modified by experience, they undergo little change, 



70 AN INTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

and that mostly in the way of settling down into a narrow 
habitual range. The development of further habits takes 
place largely under the direction of what we have called 
general instinctive tendencies,' such as fear, pride, emula- 
tion, ownership, imitation, play, etc. The great achievement 
of habit-forming is connected with those simple random 
instinctive tendencies which we have called impulses, for 
example, wriggling movements of arms, hands, legs, or vocal 
organs. Evidently, then, one great principle of the forma- 
tion of habit is that the nature of the organism itself deter- 
mines bef oreh3,nd, in a measure, what habits shall be formed 
and capacities developed. This is very clearly true of the 
simple instincts, such as the sucking of the infant and 
the clasping by the hand of objects with which it comes 
in contact. It is true as well of the more undeveloped 
impulses acting under general instinctive tendencies, for 
these are the material to be molded. The nature of the 
material will in a way determme what shall be made 
from it. 

The second principle may be thus stated : Owing to the 
plasticity of the neurones, the nervous impulse or current 
tends to pass a second time over a course where it has 
passed before with success and satisfaction for the organ- 
ism. The third and fourth times are still easier, and so on, 
the habit becoming more and more fixed with each action. 
When the nervous impulse or current directs movements 
which are out of accord with the end desired, and especially 
when they bring painful consequences, these nervous cur- 
rents tend to be inhibited. The burnt child dreads the fire 
and will not reach for the flame more than once or twice. 
The movements which, as in the example, take him away 
from the desired object will not tend to be tried again. 
The vocal sounds which are unlilve the word repeated by 



THE SIMPLE PEOCESSES OF ADAPTATION 71 

the parent will not tend to be hardened into habit. The 
second principle of habit might have been thus stated : 
The nervous impulse or current tends to pass a second time 
over a course where it has once passed, provided evident 
failure and pain have not resulted as a consequence of the 
movement thus set up. James says that " an acquired habit 
is nothing but a new pathway of discharge formed in the 
brain, by which certain incoming currents ever afterward 
tend to escape." The forming of habits is thus an inev- 
itable affair for such an active organism as the young 
human being is. Many of these habits require considerable 
effort in their formation, but they are all important, for 
these habits are the powers and capabilities which the in- 
dividual has, for better or worse, for his use as he goes 
on living. Each action in response to stimulation, each 
attempt to accomplish an end, results in the development 
of some habit, either in the direction of confirming more and 
more one already well formed, or in the way of working 
over and using some of our habits and powers for bringmg 
to pass some new end or purpose. 

Uses and training of habit. There are, then, as was 
pointed out at the conclusion of the last chapter, two chief 
ways of the development of habit, or two chief functions 
of habit. The first is what the more common use of the term 
"habit" suggests, — the settling into fixed mechanical ways 
of acting and the practiced ability to perform certain acts. 
That this shall take place in great measure all through the 
range of the active life of the individual is of the utmost 
importance. We learn early and with lasting effect, m a 
most routine, habitual way, at least nine tenths of our ordi- 
nary actions. Talking, walking, dressing, reading, avoiding 
obstacles in the street, greeting acquaintances, whistling, 
playing games, — all these and a thousand and one others are 



72 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

turned over to the control of habitual, practically involun- 
tary nervous courses. This is the great economy of living- 
It extends all through the range of one's activity. Even 
the higher moral and intellectual life gets into ruts or fixed 
ways of behavior. Early in life such habits are securely 
formed, and after a few years we may think we are able 
to change them, and no doubt in a measure we are, but at 
any rate we seldom do. 

With respect to this first feature of habit, the fixed me- 
chanical one, it may be said : 

1. The more fixed and mechanical our actions become, 
the less attention is given to them, the less we are con- 
scious of them. Habit takes care of the act of walking ; 
we only think out and determine where we wish to go. In 
speaking and writing our attention is given to the thought 
to be expressed, not to the habitual way of expressing it. 

2. Habit makes our actions more efficient, for it elimi- 
nates the useless movements and makes the necessary ones 
both quick and accurate. The clever workman has a great 
advantage over the clumsy apprentice, the good tennis 
player is the despair of the beginner. The clever workman 
and the skillful player have their respective habits well 
formed. The beginners, giving all their attention to their 
strokes, are clumsy, inaccurate, go tlu^ough many useless 
motions, and are much more weary at the end of the work 
or the game than the expert. The difference is just a mat- 
ter of the proper forming of habit. 

The second way of the development of habit and of the 
function of habit is its possibility of being used, or reformed, 
or indeed broken up altogether. This feature of habit is no 
less important than the first. It suggests that for which the 
habit exists, namely, to bring about ends or purposes which 
the individual wants. To succeed in achieving such ends 



THE SIMPLE PROCESSES OF ADAPTATION 73 

is the purpose of all action, and habits to be true to their 
place in human life must be subordinate in this way to the 
purposes of the possessor, 

1. The using of habits. Habits are for the most part 
used to achieve other purposes than just their own exer- 
cise. We walk to get somewhere. We speak to utter our 
thoughts. We even whistle to keep up our courage. We 
add, subtract, multiply, and divide, not for the sake of per- 
forming those operations, but, after their first learning, for 
working out our simple or complex arithmetical problems. 
These simple mechanical habits find their reason for being in 
their furnishing the easy and effective means of perf ormmg 
our ordinary tasks. 

2. The reforming of habits. It frequently happens that 
we have new ends or purposes to be brought about which 
our routine habits will not achieve. Our old habits and 
ways of action must then be modified and rearranged. If 
our habits are thus flexible, we can succeed iii performing 
the new task. If they are not thus flexible, we are help- 
lessly old fogy. The perfect development of habit calls for 
such a degree of flexibility that modification can be made 
when the new occasion calls for it. The cliild who has 
learned a poor style of writing and of holding the pen 
must take on the new and better way if he is to write well. 
The rough-and-tumble football player must reform his ways 
under the direction of the skillful coach or he cannot make 
the team. The merchant must change his old habits of 
business if he is to succeed under the changed conditions. 
Habit, if normal, is thus under the control of its possessor 
in the way of modification so as to achieve new purposes, 
to meet new conditions, to perfect an art. When habit be- 
comes hopelessly fixed, it becomes an unnatural, undesirable 
development. 



74 Ai^ INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

3. The breaking of habits. It frequently happens that 
for the best development of the person, habits must be 
broken. These are what we call bad or unfortunate habits. 
Habits may be broken (a) by strongly determining to do so, 
and by trying to do something else instead. If a new pos- 
sibility of action is held before the mind, if one gets, perhaps, 
new acquaintances, changes his haunts, takes on some new 
obligation, the old habit may succumb. (5) By not making 
the mistake of willingly going back to the old habit " just 
for once." Let the nervous impulse or current rush through 
the old channel again, and the inhibitmg influences seem 
to lose their place, swept away by the current. James says : 
" Each lapse is like the letting fall of a ball of string which 
one is carefully wiiidmg up ; a single slip undoes more 
than a great many turns will wind again." (c) By acting 
quickly and strongly upon the new idea and feeling, and 
by puttmg away as far as possible the chance for per- 
forming the old act and the feelings which tend to linger 
m the mind about it. 

We have thus outlined the nature of those simple adap- 
tive processes whereby the organism tends to adjust itself 
to the conditions of its life. The automatic acts were cited 
as necessary mechanical features of conditions of life. So, 
in a measure, were the reflex acts almost as necessary and 
mechanical as the automatic acts. At a higher stage we 
find the highly important instinctive acts and tendencies, 
mechanical in a measure and yet developing somewhat mto 
habits. Then there are the random impulsive tendencies, 
good material, indeed, the marked possession of the human 
species, but not of much use until developed into controlled 
powers called habits. Lastly and most important in our 
discussion we found that habits, developed partly from in- 
stincts and mostly from impulses, become the great means 



THE SIMPLE PEOCESSES OF ADAPTATION 75 

whereby the organism adapts itself to its environment. The 
relation of habits to the whole range of mental processes, 
and especially to that highest grade of adaptive adjustment 
known as voluntary conduct, Avill appear as we proceed. 

Practical and educational applications. As the concluding 
part of this chapter we shall point out some features of the 
practical and educational importance of habit, and also some 
of those aspects of the formation of habits which ought to be 
taken into consideration by all who have responsibility in 
the matter of training the young. 

It is perhaps not too much to say that education consists 
in the formmg of good and useful habits and in the avoid- 
ance of those habits which are useless and harmful. Phys- 
ically, mentally, and morally we are bundles of habits. 
By forming right habits our bodies become ready, accurate, 
and economical servants for the carrying out of all the pur- 
poses of our desires and ideals. By formmg right mental 
habits we are enabled to perceive, remember, and reason 
with correctness and efficiency, and are able to learn and 
to use our knowledge to advantage. By forming right 
habits morally we tend to have worthy inclinations and 
desires, to choose the good and shun the evil, to follow 
out in our conduct those lines of action which are of high- 
est worth, to behave individually and socially so that the 
things individually and socially worth while may be effec- 
tually achieved. If the whole life then, physical, mental, 
and moral, becomes in such a measure a matter of habit, 
it is of the utmost importance that parents, teachers, and 
pupils themselves should use all their powers that right 
and useful habits may be formed, and character, which is 
but settled habit of will, become sound and strong. 

In order that some useful practical and educational pre- 
cepts may be drawn from the discussion of the nature of 



76 AN INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

instinct, impulse, and the formation of habit, we must re- 
call certain features of that discussion. An early section 
of the chapter suggests that habits are formed by doing, by 
action. It is the actual response to stimulation that counts 
in forming habits. This is true throughout the whole range 
of habits, physical, mental, and moral. We certainly " learn 
by doing." It is not enough to wish or even to regret. 
Whether it is a matter of learnmg to play baseball, of be- 
coming familiar with arithmetical processes, of writing good 
English, of telling the truth, or of being kind to one's 
neighbor, faithful, persistent action, or doing or attempt- 
ing to do these things, is the fundamental feature of habit- 
forming. The neurones are indeed plastic, but it is only 
through stimulus and response that this plasticity can be 
taken advantage of. The organism is a decidedly active 
affair, and the forming of right habits is a matter of rightly 
controlling these activities. 

With respect to instmcts in the matter of the develop- 
ment of right habits, much more can be said in an educa- 
tional way of instinct in the sense of general instinctive 
tendency than in the sense of specific reflexive act. These 
deep-set tendencies are the great inner forces with which 
the teacher must reckon. To mention some of them will 
suggest their availability: love and sympathy, anger, fear, 
curiosity, rivalry, ownership, constructiveness, imitation, 
play, pugnacity. It would take too much space here to 
attempt to show in what ways each of these may be used in 
the formation of habits. It is easily seen that love and sym- 
pathy between the child and his teachers may call out activ- 
ities of the child in connection with his work which will 
be of the greatest use in the development of useful actions 
and ideas. For the curiosity of the child, the parent and the 
teacher may well be thankful and take courage. Rivalry 



THE SIMPLE PROCESSES OF ADAPTATION 77 

or emulation is a most useful spur to action. Ownership, 
the desire to possess, shows early, and may be made the 
basis of attention to many things, — books, specimens, etc. ; 
and the acquirement of these will mean much m directmg 
the thought and the action of the pupil. Constructiveness, 
the tendency to make and to build, a natural expression 
of motor impulse, may, in all grades from the lowest up, in 
kindergarten play, in map-drawing, in manual training, 
etc., be called into exercise so as decidedly to mold habits 
of action and thought. Modern schools are true to the 
psychology of the case when they insist on " learning by 
doing," and in the forming of many of the most-^exact and 
useful ideas and habits by means of activity of the instinc- 
tively constructive sort. Imitation and play have already 
been referred to in connection with the formation of habit 
from impulse, and further reference will be made to them 
in the next section. Much can be said of the instinctive 
tendencies of the pride-pugnacity sort. If an appeal can 
be made to the will-not-be-downed spirit of the pupil in 
connection with hard lessons or difficult examples, we are 
likely to get the pupil at his best for mastery of his task, 
and right and useful habits of action and of thought will 
be the likely result. 

Another feature of instinct, as pointed out above, the 
teacher must keep in mind. Appeal to the instincts which 
are uppermost m the child's mind at the time. Instincts tend 
to ripen and decay. Imitation may be a stronger tendency 
at one time than at another. So with rivalry, constructive- 
ness, pride, and ownership. Watch for the outcroppings of 
these tendencies and at the right time make provision for 
their fullest exercise. Subjects of study should be selected, 
tasks of action set, and methods employed, with full cog- 
nizance of the growth of these tendencies, their ripening 



78 A^ mTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

and decay. We can simply call attention here to the exist- 
ence and very general nature of these instmctive tenden- 
cies, and suggest that they be watched for attentively and 
used as much as may be. 

Passing more directly to the matter of the development 
of habits from what we have called impulses, many sug- 
gestions of vital importance for the work of the teacher 
may be made. Perhaps the most fundamental one is this, 
that all education, all forming of habits of thought and ac- 
tion, must be self -education. It is only by action on the part 
of the individual that his nervous organism can be devel- 
oped. This was seen to be the case in reaching for the ob- 
ject, in learning to walk, to talk, etc. Only by this activity 
of the organism itself can response be organically connected 
with impression. Growth in habits must be self-growth, 
just as the growth of a tree must be. The growing boy 
must educate himself, first, last, and all the time, by his 
own self-activity, just as by that same self-activity must 
the child learn to reach for the object, to creep, walk, or 
talk. It would be just as foolish for the teacher to thmk 
that she could teach the child to reach for and grasp the 
object and to walk by carrying the child to the object or 
the object to the child, as to imagine that she can by her 
carrying efforts make the child learn that which is good 
and useful, and build up for him a desirable set of habits, 
a useful body of knowledge, and a worthy character. Tliis 
is, as we have seen, the fundamental feature of habit ; and 
in order that any education, any development of right and 
useful habits of thought and action may come about, there 
must be, to begin with, this basal organic self-activity on 
the part of the individual boy or girl. No effort of others, 
no amount of mstruction or riclmess of envkonment, can 
take its place. 



THE SIMPLE PROCESSES OF ADAPTATION 79 

In this connection it should also be noticed that self- 
activity means expression as well as impression. The or- 
ganism must be open to stimulation or impression ; it must 
correlate these impressions, assimilate them mentally ; and 
in order that the ideas may be made clear, and that the 
habit, mental, moral, or physical, may be thoroughly in- 
grained and tested, expression is essential. Bryan, in " The 
Basis of Practical Teachmg," page 42, says : " There is, 
however, another psychologic fact just as fundamental and 
true, but not so familiar ; namely, that our expression of an 
idea tends to clarify it, and at the same time determines 
more or less the direction and strength of the ideas that 
follow. A fact never to be forgotten is that the life to be 
expressed is affected by the expression just as truly as the 
expression is affected by the life to be expressed. Students 
should be encouraged to express themselves. The oppor- 
tunities for expression in the schoolroom should be numer- 
ous and varied, — opportunities for oral expression, written 
expression, drawmg, music, manual trammg of all kinds. 
Three opportunities, then, the school should afford the 
student: an opportunity for varied stimulations to use- 
ful mental activities ; an opportunity for mental digestion, 
mental assimilation ; and greater opportunities than have 
heretofore been given him for fullness and richness of 
expression." 

Second only in importance to this is the place taken in 
the tuition or development of habits of thought and ac- 
tion by influences outside the child's organism, influences 
of parents, teachers, other people, especially children, and 
of the environment generally. Important as these influences 
are, it must not be forgotten that they are but aids in the 
development process. They are so important, however, that 
normal development is utterly dependent on them. What 



80 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

habits shall be formed depends largely on these outside 
conditions. 

Normal development is dependent on suggestion from 
people and environment generally. The developing life of 
the child can be in great measure controlled by control of 
the situations and of the stimuli. If situations and stimuli 
are controlled, it will be a control of impressions and hence 
largely of responses ; in other words, of habits. Tuition by 
others and by circumstances is thus second only to self- 
tuition by self-activity. The two naturally work together. 
The pomt of control is the stimulus, and it is at this point 
that teachers and guides of the young should give them- 
selves concern. 

As the total environment of the developmg youth, phys- 
ical, social, gesthetic, and otherwise, is of such importance 
in the matter of the formation of habits of thought, feeling, 
and action, it follows, of course, that the greatest care should 
be exercised in the provision for this environment. While, 
as we have seen, the native tendencies of the youth count 
for much in determining habit, yet what the boy learns, 
how he behaves, what his attitudes are, is after all largely 
in the hands of parents, teachers, and associates. 

Let us recall from the discussion on pages 65 and 70 
certain features of the process by which the environment 
molds the child. Success and satisfaction as the results 
of behavior tend to fix that behavior in a habitual way. 
Failure to achieve the purpose, or unpleasantness in pur- 
suit or attainment, tend to inhibit such activities. Parents 
and teachers may have a part in this process by so modify- 
ing or preparing the various features of environment that 
the successes and satisfactions of the child may be found 
in the right and useful channels of thought, action, and 
feeling. 



THE SIMPLE PROCESSES OF ADAPTATION 81 

Again, imitation and play are, as we have seen, decided 
features of influence in the child's development. Much of 
the influence of teachers, parents, and others comes about 
in these ways. Nor is this simply a matter of the early 
efforts, such as learning to talk, where the child by his try- 
try-again efforts at. last successfully imitates the simplest 
words. Habits of talking and walking, general manners, 
general notions and individual ideas, feeling and attitudes, 
likes and dislikes, habits of respect, admiration, etc., — all 
these are developed in the child in the course- of his early 
life in slavish and free imitation, and in play. In so far as 
parents and teachers can control the situation as to what 
shall be imitated, may they hope really to mold the child. 

It is not simply a case, however, of providing conditions 
for the child to react upon. The parent and teacher may 
legitimately encourage the desirable features of the develop- 
ment. Smiles, praise, rewards, premiums of various sorts, 
may be safely and to great advantage put upon the more 
or less successful attempts on the part of the child to do 
the things which are of the desirable sort. Frownings, dis- 
couragements, and even punishments, if wisely used, may 
be applied to great advantage to prevent the development 
of habits of an undesirable sort. These satisfactions in 
connection with certain ways of behaving, and unpleasant- 
nesses in connection with certain other ways, when shrewdly 
used by parents and teachers, may be very effective. The 
greatest care should be taken, however, that they shall be 
of the most helpful sort, shall be natural rather than arbi- 
trary, supplementing the further experiences of the child 
with respect to his environment. 

In this part of the discussion attention should be called 
to the matter of the reform of habits. In discussing this 
above, it M^as said that the perfect development of habit calls 



82 AlSr INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

for such a degree of flexibility that modification can be made 
when new occasion calls for it. Habits of thought and 
action should be constantly used so as to bring about use- 
ful ends and purposes, the solving of questions of knowl- 
edge and of conduct. As these questions vary, different 
feelings, ideas, and powers of all kinds will be brought into 
use, or at least there will need to be new combmations of 
ideas and movements. If the framing of the child is of the 
best sort, the whole attitude of the child will be such that, 
barring the most mechanical habits of action and thought, 
his powers of thought and movement will be ever at his 
command for further use. His whole mental habit and 
temper will be neither radical nor conservative, but pro- 
gressive. He will then be adaptable and alert, and as 
efficient as it is in his power to be. He will not be mert, 
mechanical, old fogy. This habit and temper may be culti- 
vated in all the child's school work and in his general 
physical, moral, and social framing. The meaning and pur- 
pose of social and ethical rules and efforts gradually ap- 
pear as these rules release their blind claim on the youth 
and as they are more freely and intelligently used. So with 
mechanical ways of physical performance of tasks, and 
with hygienic rules for the welfare of the body. 

In school work, especially in the growth of knowledge 
and of habits of thought, this prmciple is of direct, useful 
application. The knowledge and thought habits already in 
the possession of the pupil must be constantly, freely, and 
flexibly used in order that new problems may be solved, 
new knowledge obtained, and new habits of thought formed. 
More will be made of this principle later on m our dis- 
cussion, but it is important here. Any lesson in school in 
any subject — geography, history, arithmetic, geometry, 
or any other — can be understood only in terms of what 



THE SIMPLE PROCESSES OE ADAPTATION 83 

has gone before, and this lesson becomes in turn a means 
toward understanding many others. Take a geometry les- 
son, for example. It is not enough to define a triangle, 
though a preliminary definition must be gained somehow. 
The different kinds of triangles, the equality or mequality 
of triangles under certain specified conditions, relations of 
sides and angles, of exterior and interior angles, the measure- 
ment of the three angles, etc., — all these things and many 
other properties of triangles follow along one after another. 
The point here is that each is used in turn in understand- 
ing the next, and the triangle itself is understood in relation 
to other geometrical figures. The thought habit develops 
naturally and usefully concernmg the triangle. In such 
ways the pupil's habits of thought may be made useful, 
and the value of habit realized. 

The principle of the natural and free use of certain 
habits, or practical abilities already gained, for the sake of 
gaining further useful and more complex habits and capaci- 
ties, may be applied as well outside of school. While the 
organism is still in its plastic state, it may best adapt itself 
to the varymg conditions of its life by utilizmg its capital 
already acquired. This is the way of natural progress. 

Habits should be used in gaining further and more com- 
plex habits. What is already known and under control 
should be used for further achievement. This is the best 
way to repeat habits, and shows their proper function, 
which is progressive control over life's conditions. What- 
ever is learned should be flexible, capable of further use in 
various connections. That habit is normally a progressive 
affair should thus be realized in school practice and held up 
consciously as an ideal. 

We have thus in this chapter pointed out the nature 
of the sunple processes of adjustment, and some practical 



84 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

methods by which these processes may best be acquired, 
developed, and used. It is suggested that the reader en- 
deavor to illustrate for himself by some first-hand observa- 
tions and some specific applications the various principles 
involved. 

In the next two chapters we shall go on to discuss more 
directly the nature of those conscious processes — sensation 
arjjd sense-perception — which may be called the processes of 
mind resulting from stimulation of the 'sense organs. For 
the larger and more complex adjustment of the organism 
to the conditions of its life in a conscious way, these sense 
processes must first be taken into account, for they are the 
channels tlirough which the information comes which will, 
in turn, challenge the powers of the organism to intelligent 
and skillful movements. 

REFERENCES 

James. Psychology, Briefer Course, Chapters X and XXV. 
James. Talks to Teachers, Chapters III- VIII inclusive. 
Angell. Psychology, Chapters III, XV, XVI, XVII. 
JuDD. Psychology, Chapter VIII. 

Thorndike. Elements of Psychology, Sections 31-34. 
Thorndike. Principles of Teaching, Chapter III. 



CHAPTER V 

THE SIMPLE PROCESSES OF SENSE STIMULATION: 
SENSATION 

As the stream of consciousness flows on in our ordinary 
experience, we are constantly perceiving objects and having 
ideas of objects remembered or imagined. Take any such 
perception or idea and notice its make-up. To be specific, let 
us take for example one's perception or idea of an orange. 
When the orange is taken hold of, it feels warm or cool to 
the hand. It has its own peculiar taste. Such experiences 
which we have of coohiess or warmth, of taste, and of such 
other qualities as the color of the orange, its weight, round- 
ness, softness, etc., go to make up our idea or perception 
of the object called an orange. Our ideas or perceptions of 
objects are thus made up of distinguishable factors. 

Some of these factors we can analyze further and others 
we cannot. When we have completed the analysis, the fac- 
tors of our idea or perception may be called mental elements. 
In the case of the orange, we have the simple factors of 
coolness or warmth as the case may be, its pure orange 
color, its pressure on the hand, indicating its weight, etc. 
The taste may be analyzed further as we shall see later. 
These elemental factors of the idea or perception, not to 
be analyzed any further as items of our consciousness, are 
called sensation elements, or sensations. The coolness or 
warmth is a sensation ; the fragrance of the orange is a 
sensation ; the color of the orange is a sensation ; its sweet 
taste is a sensation ; its slightly bitter taste is a sensation. 
And so with its other elementary features. 

85 



86 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

When our eyes are stimulated in certain ways we are 
conscious of colors We get sounds througli our ears, smells 
by means of the nose, tastes by means of the tongue, and so 
on. These sensations which we may have, then, depend upon 
the stimulation of our sense organs — eyes, ears, tongue,' 
etc. — in certain ways. When this action upon the sense 
organ takes place, the stimulus is carried along the sensory 
nerve course, centers in the brain are caused to act, and the 
result in consciousness is a sensation or group of sensations. 

Definition. Our definition of sensation, then, must take 
into the account its elemental or simple nature as a con- 
scious affair, its relation to the bodily organs, and also its 
ordinary use in mental life, that is for the purpose of form- 
ing perceptions or ideas. Let us, then, take the definition of 
Professor Titchener, adding this last feature. "Sensations 
are those elemental conscious processes which are connected 
with bodily processes in definite bodily organs," and which 
are commonly used for buildmg up our ideas or perceptions 
of physical objects. 

Early sense experience. The organism is from the first, as 
we have seen, an active affair, instinctively and impulsively 
adjusting itself to its environment and using that environ- 
ment for its own purposes. Now all this activity, in so far 
as it has results in consciousness, gives rise to sensations, 
the natural outcome of stimulations and activities in the 
various parts of the body. Conscious sense experience will 
come both from the stimulations to the reactions, and also 
in turn as a result of the reactions themselves. 

These sense impressions which the infant experiences are 
important. Of course the infant is not conscious of them 
in the knowing way in which they appeal to the more 
mature person. The early sense experience of the child 
must be a very crude and vague affair. The conscious 



SENSE STIMULATION: SENSATION 87 

processes are not so important at this stage of development 
as they become later, when more responsible and more vol- 
untary direction of conduct by consciousness is called for. 
They seem quite incidental in reflex and instinctive acts. 
They gradually grow of more importance as the impulses 
are developing into habits. Then the necessities of life 
demand that more attention shall be given to them. The 
sensory experiences become less vague and more clearly 
noticed, as the need arises for finer adjustment of conduct 
to the conditions of life. The conscious sense experiences 
then become more definite and clear, more intense, more real. 

Sensation and perception. This early mass of sensation 
life develops in two ways. First, each sensation gets to 
be noticed for what it is in itself. The red color is red as 
distinguished from blue. Hunger is hunger and not thirst. 
These sensations come to be known for their qualities. 
This is the way the more mature person knows them. 
Second, we have the more important part of the develop- 
ment. The sensation comes to be grouped with other sensa- 
tions, and we have 'perceptions and ideas. When, now, a 
sensation is experienced, it means something, and something 
further than just itself. The odor of the savory dish is not 
a mere odor, but stands for the food. The sound of the 
bell may be not merely a sound but a summons, the bell 
ringing for breakfast. The sound of the clock's tick is 
different, as a mere sound sensation, for the infant from 
what it comes to be for the adult. And so our sensations 
come to have a meaning with reference to things. They 
become parts of perceptions of objects. They are the signs 
of the objects, and we act accordingly. 

If we think of the early sense experiences as being of the 
crude, vague sort mentioned above, and if we then think 
of the ever growing attention which must be given to these 



88 AN INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

sense experiences on account of the ever greater need for 
new and complex adjustments, it is not difficult to follow 
what happens. In Chapter VII we shall see more clearly 
how the attention works, but we can anticipate here by 
saying that it has two results in the conscious material it 
works with, — namely, that it discriminates so as to make 
clear the noticeable features ; and it also tends to group 
these distinguishable features into parts of the whole affair 
which it began to attend to. Now in the case of the crude 
sensory material we are speaking of, the results of atten- 
tion to it will be the two mentioned in the last paragraph. 
The distinguishable features will be the sensations, and 
the whole group of them, thought of as a unit, will be the 
sense-perception of the objects concerned. 

In adult life we need, accordingly, considerable intro- 
spection m order to notice the sensation by itself as an 
element of consciousness, for of course our experience of 
it is as a part of our perceptions or ideas of objects, and 
our mterests and our necessities for action are with the 
objects of sense rather than with the distinguishable sen- 
sation factors. For example, the orange above mentioned 
may be thought of m the usual way, with the qualities 
fused together, — that is, the orange, or one's idea of the 
orange, the use of the orange, etc. ; while in order to notice 
the sensations out of which the perception of the orange is 
made, some attention must be given to the individual fea- 
tures or qualities of the object, such as the color. The actual 
experiences which we have being of perceptions of objects, 
t,he sensation is rather an abstract affair and is not easy 
to single out. Professor Titchener says : " The rule for in- 
trospection in the sphere of sensation is as follows : Be 
as attentive as possible to the object or process which gives 
rise to the sensation, and, when the object is removed or 



SEI^SE STIMULATION: SENSATION 89 

the process completed, recall the sensation by an act of 
memory as vividly and completely as you can." 

Classification of sensations. In order to understand the 
nature of sensations a classification seems desirable, and 
one is readily suggested. Colors are different from sounds, 
sounds from tastes, tastes from pressure on the skin, and 
so on. Each sensation comes, of course, from the stimula- 
tion of some part of the body. Our classification may then 
roughly follow that of the bodily organs. And so we have 
a classification like the following : 

Sensations From Stimulations of 

Sight eyes 

Hearing ears 

Taste tongue 

Smell nose 

Temperature skin 

Touch or 2>ressure skin 

Pain skin 

Muscular muscles 

Tendinous tendons 

Articular joints 

There are certain other sensations such as those connected 
with respiration, the circulation of the blood, digestion, 
etc., usually referred to as organic sensations ; but these 
are of little importance for the growth of our perceptions 
and ideas, and need not be taken into the account here. 
The attributes of sensation. This classification of sensa- 
tions, while based largely on the differences in sense organs, 
is at the same time a classification according to the qualities 
of the sensations themselves. The quality of a sensation is 
that which makes it what it is ; that is, distinguishes it in 
its nature from other sensations. A salt taste is different 
from a red color in quality. So is a salt taste different 



90 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

from a sweet taste. The quality of a sensation is the most 
important thing about it, its essence, so to speak. 

Sensations differ also in quantity or intensity. A taste 
may be slightly bitter or very bitter. A sound may be 
low or loud. Each qualitatively different sensation may 
be, with modifications noted hereafter, experienced in dif- 
ferent degrees of intensity. 

Sensations differ, too, in the matter of their duration. 
A sensation may last a longer or a shorter time. 

Titchener, in his recent work "A Text-book of Psychology," 
adds clearness as an essential feature of sensation. When a 
sensation is directly attended to, its clearness is greater than 
when it is outside the focus of consciousness. A certain degree 
of clearness, thus it would seem, belongs to every sensation. 

These, then, are the chief features or attributes of sen- 
sation, belonging to each sensation we may have : quality, 
intensity, duration, and clearness. The attribute of ex- 
tensity, or spread-out-ness, also belongs to some sensations, 
such as those of the visual and pressure sort. 

Sight sensations. In passing to an account of the special 
sensations, or sensation qualities, the most important and 
probably the most familiar are those of vision. What sen- 
sations do we get by seeing ? We get sensations of color, 
and those of neutral tints, or brightness sensations. Un- 
doubtedly we see objects, their size, shape, etc., but as we 
shall find later, these mental experiences are not simple sen- 
sations, but perceptions built up out of sensation material 
in rather subtle fashion. 

The brightness sensations include white, black, and all the 
grays. The words " white " and " black " seem to indicate 
more than one distinct sense quality, and we may speak of the 
whites and the blacks. If we start with white we may pass 
to that tint wliich is just gray enough to be distinguished 



SENSE STIMULATION; SENSATION 91 

from white, and then from tliis to the next darker, and so 
on tlirough all the grays to black. Each will differ from 
the one before it by being a little darker. In this way 
we can find out how many sensations of brightness, differ- 
ing in quality, we may have. By careful experimentation 
it has been found that the normal practiced eye can distm- 
guish between six hundred and seven hundred of these 
grays, including the whites and the blacks. In our ordmary 
language, in speaking of the grays we use only the tliree 
terms, "gray," " light gray," and " dark gray." This is, of 
course, only for our practical convenience, and without ex- 
perimenting we are aware that there are many light grays 
and many dark grays. Black and white, while not colors, are 
just as real, as sensations, as the various grays or the spectral 
colors. Whiteness and blackness we notice as real qualities 
of objects. To see black is very different from seeing noth- 
ing at all. It must be remembered in talking of the number 
of sensation qualities that we may have, both here m the 
matter of brightness sensations and with respect to other 
groups, that we do not have or use in ordinary experience 
anythuig like as many different qualities as experiments 
show that it is possible for us to have. Our discrimmation 
in such matters is only as fine as our "needs call for. 

The colors of the spectrum are red, orange, yellow, green, 
blue, indigo blue, and violet. Purple, a color compounded 
of red and violet, and appearing for sensation to be between 
them, is usually added to the list. Let ordinary sunlight 
pass through a prism and these colors may be noticed. 
They shade into one another gradually, and between, for 
instance, yellow and green, we may notice several colors 
which we commonly call greenish yellow or yellowish green. 
Taking mto account these transition colors, which for sen- 
sation and as sensation elements are just as real as the 



92 



AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 



accepted colors of the spectrum, we have a great number 
of pure simple colors. We have names for about twenty- 
five, and by careful experimental examination the eye can 
distinguish about one hundred fifty to one hundred sixty of 
these spectral color qualities. 



Red 
R — 



Orange 



Yellow 

\y 



Carmine 



Purple 



Violet 



Indisfo 



Greenish 
Yellows 



Yellowish 
Greens 



G 



Blue 



Greenish 
Blues 



Bluish 
Greens 



Green 



Fig. 11. The color square 

There are certain colors — red, yellow, green, and blue — 
which are called the principal colors, and which according 
to some psychologists are the only really elemental colors. 
Orange seems to be between red and yellow, and there are 
the greenish yellows and the yellowish greens, between 
yellow and green ; the bluish greens and the greenish 
blues, between green and blue ; while indigo, violet, pur- 
ple, carmine, etc., seem to be found on the way from blue 
to red. If we represent the matter by a square, we have the 
principal colors at the corners and the other colors on the 
successive lines formmg the sides of the square. 



SENSE STIMULATION: SENSATION 93 

From a purely psychological point of view, however, the 
mark of being a separate element would seem to be that 
it can be distinguished qualitatively from another ; and so 
the one hundred fifty to one hundred sixty distinguishable 
qualities above mentioned would seem to be the real num- 
ber of color elements in the pure spectral series. The dis- 
tinguishable qualities between violet and red are of course 
not in the spectrum, and the break in a line from B to R 
of the square is intended to indicate this. 

There are certain other colors, such as pink, brown, 
maroon, olive, and many others, which are not to be found 
in the spectrum, but which may be obtained by mixing one 
of the spectral colors with one of the grays. Maroon is a 
red infused with black. Pink results from the mixing of 
white light with the red of the spectrum. Olive is a dark- 
ened green. Brown comes from mixing black with yellow. 
Although not noticed in our ordinary experience beyond 
a limited number, it is possible by experimentation to de- 
tect an immense number of these shades, which are practi- 
cally, as we see them, simple color qualities. About thirty 
thousand of these, according to Angell, and thirty-two thou- 
sand, according to Titchener, are observable. 

We have then, as simple visual qualities, the six to seven 
hundred brightness qualities, the one hundred fifty to one 
hundred sixty spectral color qualities, and these thirty to 
thirty-two thousand just mentioned, making in all from 
thirty thousand seven hundred fifty to thirty -two thousand 
eight hundred sixty. 

Complementary colors. Certain colors when mixed to- 
gether, not as paint but by means of the color wheel for 
instance, produce a brightness sensation of grayish white. 
If the wheel is rotated rapidly, when a part of the disk 
shows one color and part another color, the colors do not 



94 AN mTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

show separately (just as the spokes of a carriage wheel do not 
when at high speed), but a mixture of the colors is obtained. 
Colors which will combine in this way to produce grayish 
white are called complementary or antagonistic colors. Yellow 
and blue, green and purple, red and bluish green, orange and 
greenish blue, and some others are thus complementary. 

After-images. If one looks out of a wmdow on a sunny 
wmter's day at the snow-covered ground, the field of vision 
will be white, broken by the straight, crossed, dark lines 
of the window sashes. If the eyes are then shut, the same 
sensations of light field with dark lines seem to persist. 
This is called a positive after-image. After a little, if one 
keeps the eyes closed, the light field of vision will become 
dark, crossed by the same lines of the sashes, but they will 
now seem light. This is called the negative after-image. 
In colors the same effect is produced by any pair of com- 
plementary colors that is shown in this example by the 
light and dark features. 

Color contrast. If a slip of gray paper is laid upon a 
black background, and another slip of the same gray paper 
is laid upon a white background, the former slip of gray 
will look much lighter than the other one. If a slip of gray 
paper is laid upon any colored surface, it will tend to lose 
its plain grayness and will seem to shade into the color 
complementary to the one on which the gray slip was placed. 
Thus a gray slip of paper on a green background will look 
somewhat reddish, and upon a blue background will look 
somewhat yellowish. Complementary colors if placed side 
by side will each be accentuated; blue with yellow will 
make the blue look bluer and the yellow yellower. These 
cases illustrate what is meant by color contrast, and go to 
show that the visual sensations obtained from any object 
are largely modified by surrounding objects. 



SENSE SvTIMULATION : SENSATION 



95 



The eye as an organ for seeing is usually compared to 
a photographer's camera. There is the dark chamber on 
the back of which is a sensitive curtain, the retina. In 
front there is a lens through which the rays of light come. 
The retina is composed of nervous elements sensitive to the 
stimulation of the light rays. In the center of the retina is 
its most sensitive part, called the yellow spot. The retina 
is directly connected with the optic nerve, which carries the 
stimulations along to the brain centers concerned in seeing. 




EiG. 12. Diagram showing the formation of an image on the retina 

1, 2, the object ; 1', 2', the image of the same ; c, cornea ; i, iris ; I, lens ; 
V, vitreous hmnor; lo, sclerotic; ch, choroid; on, optic nerve 

The lens in front is a self-adjustmg one and so acts that 
the rays of light from an object may focus upon the retma. 
The images of objects formed on the back of the eye, the 
retina, are like those which the photographer sees when he 
looks in at the back of the camera. 

The stimulus to vision is light as it is spoken of in 
physics. Light is there regarded as consisting of wave 
movements of the ether with which space is filled. Stout 
says : " For our purposes we may represent this undulating 
movement by the waves which pass along a rope when it 



96 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

is fixed at one end and jerked up and down by the hand 
at the other. As the wave traverses the rope, what travels 
along is not, of course, the material particles of the rope 
themselves, but only a form of movement which is trans- 
mitted from one set of particles to another. The hand may 
move more or less quickly ; the more quickly it moves the 
shorter are the waves." 

These differences in vibration rates of the ether waves 
give rise to the different colors. The red rays at one end of 
the spectrum are the slowest, making about four hundred 
forty trillions of vibrations per second, while the most rapid 
are the violet rays, which make about seven hundred ninety 
trillions per second. The other spectral colors arise from 
vibration rates between these two extremes. The brightness 
sensations are excited by light consisting of waves of ether 
of every possible length and rate of vibration traveling to- 
gether, or by combming certain vibration rates together, as 
seen in the matter of complementary colors, while each color 
of the spectrum is caused by a series of the same length 
and rate of vibration. 

Theory of color vision. It would not be profitable in an 
elementary work like this to discuss to any great extent 
a theory of color vision, or just how the eye works so as 
to produce m consciousness the various visual sensations. 
Complete agreement on the subject has not been reached 
by psychologists, or by physiologists. We may say that in 
the center of the retma vision is clearest, and all the colors, 
shades, and brightness qualities are there best seen. Dis- 
crimmations of the reds and the greens seem to be limited 
to this central part; a region farther out from the center 
seems to be still able to notice the blues and the yellows ; 
while farther away yet only the grays are noticeable, and 
all objects seen in this indirect vision are gray. Just 



SENSE STIMULATION: SENSATION 97 

what the differences are in the processes that go on in the 
different parts of the retma to produce these differences 
in power of vision, as well as to account for certam other 
peculiarities of vision which we have not space to mention, 
are not yet clearly made out. 

Sound sensations. Sound sensations may be divided into 
two sorts, tones and noises. It is difficult to further clas- 
sify noises according to quality, though we commonly refer 
to different sorts of noises, such as crack, crash, snap, puff, 
and others. Loud and low are, of course, clistmctions of 
intensity and not of quality. 

Tones, on the other hand, admit of exact classification ; 
that is, in accordance with their pitch. The pitch of a tone 
is its quality. Besides the twelve tones within each of the 
seven octaves of the musical scale, there are very many 
more which the ear can detect. Each tone may have dif- 
ferent degrees of loudness or mtensity. Differences m tones 
of the same pitch when sounded on different instruments 
are called differences in timbre, and are occasioned by the 
addition of various overtones to the ground tone. This 
is sometimes referred to as the quality of a tone, but in 
psychology it is better to reserve the term " quality " for 
differences in pitch. 

The stimulus for sound sensations is sound as it is spoken 
of in physics ; that is, air waves. These waves may be reg- 
ular or irregular m their rate of vibration. The regular 
waves give rise to tones, the irregular to noises. The rate 
of vibration cletermmes the pitch. The greater the number 
of vibrations per second, the higher is the pitch. The in- 
tensity or loudness of the tone is determmed by the breadth 
or amplitude of the vibrating wave. 

The noises which we commonly hear are decidedly com- 
plex in quality and it is apparently impossible to single out 



98 AN INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

all the simple noise elements in these compounds. It is said 
that over five hundred simple noises may be made out. Not 
only do these common noises contain many simple noise 
qualities, they also contain many elements of tone. 

It is very difficult, except for the most trained observers 
with delicate sound discrimination, to single out the simple 



Fig. 13. Diagram of the ear 

A, the auditory canal, leading to the tympanic membrane B ; C, cavity of the 

tympanum, communicating by the Eustachian tube with the pharynx D; 

E, semicircular canals ; F, cochlea ; G, auditory nerve 

tone elements. The overtones mmgle with the simple ground 
tone, and the tones fuse decidedly into clangs. Tones may 
be heard depending on vibrations of air waves from about 
sixteen to about fifty thousand per second. Between these 
two extremes about eleven thousand tones may be noticed 
as just different from one another. 



SEKSE STIMULATIOK: SENSATION 99 

The theory of sound sensation is not as yet settled beyond 
question, but the following description from Titchener's. 
" Outline of Psychology " seems to meet best the require- 
ments of the case. " Sound is received into the outer passage 
of the ear, conveyed inwards by a series of vibratmg bodies 
(elastic membrane, chain of small bones, etc.), and finally 
produces a movement in the water (endolymph) of the coch- 
lea of the internal ear. The cochlea is a hollow tube, through 
the whole length of which is stretched a membrane, the 
basilar membrane. The cross fibers of this membrane are 
arranged lil^e the strmgs upon the backboard of a piano ; 
they are very short at the begmnmg (treble strmgs) and 
gradually increase in length as the membrane continues 
(bass strings). Each cross fiber carries sensitive cells with 
which the fibrils of the auditory nerve are connected. A 
movement of the water m the tube excites the cells standing 
upon particular strmgs or cross fibers. Only those strings 
are afi^ected, m a given case, whose vibrations correspond 
to the sound outside the ear which causes the movement 
in the water. Each strmg may thus be said to be tuned to 
a certam sound wave." For a full discussion of tone and 
noise sensation, reference may be made to Titchener's treat- 
ment m his "Text-book of Psychology," Sections 23 to 28. 

Taste sensations. Most of our tastes, for mstance the 
taste of the orange mentioned above, are not smiple sensa- 
tions, but should rather be called perceptions. The taste 
of the orange is composed of a sweet taste, an acid taste, a 
scent or fragrance, a coolness, the way it feels m the mouth, 
etc. There are four simple taste qualities, — sweet, acid, 
bitter, and salt. These are easily distinguished from one 
another, while one or more of them will be found iii every 
complex taste which can be experienced. In analyzing any 
such complex taste, one cannot help noticing how closely 



100 AN Il^TRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

related taste is with both smell and touch, or the way the 
object feels in the mouth. The fragrance and the way it 
feels in the mouth have much to do with the so-called taste 
of the object, as in the case of the orange. It is rather sur- 
prismg that so much of what we call taste is really smell, 
or pressure or temperature sensations connected with the 
mouth. Thus if the nose is held, or if one has a cold, the 
taste of many very tasty things is decidedly interfered with. 
A few simple trials are enough to convince one of this. 

The stimulus to taste must be m liquid form. Solids 
have to be dissolved by the saliva before they can be tasted. 

The end organs for tasting are the tongue and soft palate, 
or more particularly little bulbs contained in the papillse of 
these organs. These are connected with the gustatory nerve, 
which conveys the taste stmiulations to the brain. Different 
areas of the tongue, too, seem to be particularly partial to 
the different simple tastes. Bitter seems to belong chiefly 
to the back part of the tongue, the tip seems to respond best 
to the sweet and salt, while the sides seem to be mostly 
responsible for sour. 

Sensations of smell. There is no satisfactory classifica- 
tion of smells according to sensation quality. Our common 
way of classing them is either into pleasant and unpleasant, 
or, perhaps even more commonly, according to the object 
from which they come. These classifications are, of course, 
sufficient for practical purposes. 

The stimulus to smell consists of very minute particles 
given off by the smellable object and drawn mto the nose 
by breathing or snuffing. 

The end organs of smell are in the upper part of the 
nose cavity, and are minute nervous structures in the mu- 
cous membrane there, the sensitive patch in each nostril 
not being larger in size than one's little finger nail. 



SENSE STIMULATION: SENSATION 101 

Temperature sensations. Temperature sensations are, as 
our common language indicates, of two sorts, cold and 
warmth. Each may, of course, differ greatly m degree of 
intensity. When the skin is stimulated by anything warmer 
than itself, we get sensations of warmth, and by anything 
colder, sensations of cold. Usually any moderate stimulus 
above 34° C. (the normal temperature of the skm) will be 
sensed as warmth, any stimulus below that as cold. The ex- 
perience of heat is probably not a simple cutaneous sensation, 
but a combination of warmth, cold, and, in most cases, paiQ. 

Experiments have revealed a very interesting fact about 
the end organs for temperature. There are warmth spots 
sensitive to warmth alone, and cold spots sensitive to cold 
alone, located close together in the skin all over our bodies. 
These can be located by experiment and are the real sense 
organs for temperature. 

Sensations of touch or pressure. These sensations are 
those of how it feels to touch or to be touched. We cannot 
classify them into qualities, for they have but one quality, 
and that is pressure. Simple touch, that is contact, and hard- 
ness and softness, sharpness and bluntness, active touch, 
etc., are only varieties of pressure, mmgled perhaps with 
other sensations. 

The stimulus is mechanical pressure or contact with the 
skin. The end organs, like those of temperature, are spots 
located more or less closely together m the skm all over 
the body. Under each pressure spot is a tiny nerve-fibril 
ending as is the case under the temperature spots, but 
different in form. When the skin is touched upon these 
pressure spots, there is a clear, distinct pressure sensation. 
When it is touched between these sensitive pressure spots, 
the sensation is dull and is due to the spread of the stunu- 
lus to these sensitive spots. 



102 AN INTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

Certain parts of the body, the hps, the tips of the fingers, 
and tlie foreliead, are much more sensitive to pressure than 
those at the other extreme, tlie back, the arm, and the sole 
of the foot. 

Pain sensations. Tlie temperature sensations and the 
pressure sensations just referred to make up, with the pain 
sensations of which we shall now speak, the cutaneous or 
skin sensations. Pain sensations arise from stimulation (a 
needle-point will do) of certain mmute areas very numerous 
in the skin. Pricking or cutting will quickly give rise to 
these sensations. Pain sensations are usually unpleasant or 
painful, but in mild forms of stimulation this is not neces- 
sarily the case. 

Muscular sensations. It is difficult to isolate muscular 
sensations so as to be conscious of them by themselves. 
Whenever there is a muscular movement, however, in any 
part of the body, these sensations come more or less into 
consciousness. They are much like pressure sensations in 
quality, and practically cannot be distinguished from them. 
The end organs for these sensations are the striped muscles 
all over the body, and the proper stimulus is sufficient 
movement in the muscle to affect the little nerve-fibril 
endings with which the muscles are well supplied. 

Articular sensations. Movements of the joints give rise 
to sensations which, like the muscular sensations, are little 
noticed, difficult to isolate, and are of a quality like that of 
pressure. Both muscular and articular sensations are used 
somewhat, as we shall see later, in buildmg up our ideas 
of movement, position, etc. 

Tendinous sensations. When the tendons are tightened, 
the sensitive nerve fibrils are more or less affected, and the 
stimulus is reported in consciousness as sensations of strain. 
These sensations, while not experienced by themselves, 



SENSE STIMULATION: SENSATION 103 

are really quite familiar. While we ordinarily give little 
attention to them, they are of considerable importance in 
building up our notions of spatial extent. If the fist is 
doubled up tightly, or if a heavy weight is lifted, or if 
almost any form of strenuous exercise is mdulged m, the 
strain sensations may be distinguished m the general feel- 
ing of the performance. In ordinary experiences these 
sensations from the muscles, joints, and tendons are more 
or less fused together, and are experienced along with skm 
pressure and often pain. The muscular, articular, and ten- 
dinous sensations are often grouped together and called 
the kinoesthetie sensations ; that is, sensations resulting from 
movement. 

These various sensations, so many in number, differing 
in kind and in intensity, form the raw material, or a large 
part of it, of our conscious life. As was mentioned above 
there are certaui sensations, m addition to the ones de- 
scribed, which ought to be mcluded m any full account of 
sensation. These are termed organic sensations. Hunger, 
thirst, and nausea, connected with the alimentary canal, 
and certam sensations from the semicircular canals of the 
inner ear, are examples of these. But it is thought that 
all of any great importance for the development of our 
perceptions and ideas of objects have been sufficiently, if 
very briefly, described. 

We have now discussed the general nature of sensation, 
and, in connection with the various classes of sensations, 
have spoken somewhat of the end organs of sense, the 
adequate or appropriate stimulations for each of the sense 
organs, and of the resultmg sensations or sense qualities. 
The greater part of our discussion has been upon the kinds 
or qualities of sensations in each of the classes. We have 
said, however, that sensations have other attributes besides 



104 AI^ mTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

the attribute of quality ; namely, intensity, duration, clear- 
ness, and in some cases extent. 

Sensation intensity. The intensity of sensation depends 
in great measure upon the strength or intensity of the 
stimulation of the end organ. There may be, however, 
slight stimulations of the sense organ without any strength 
of sensation resulting at all ; that is, without any report in 
consciousness. The sound may not be loud enough to be 
heard. At the other end of the scale of intensity — as, 
for example, when hearing a painfully loud noise or seeing 
a painfully bright light — there might be a great addition 
to the strength of the stimulus without the noise seeming 
any louder or the light brighter. In either case the sen- 
sation seems to be as intense as the sense organ, the ear 
or the eye, can report to consciousness. 

With respect to sensations of moderate intensity there 
is a fairly well-established law in regard to the relation 
between strength of stimulation and intensity of sensation. 
If a lighted candle is brought into a room which is getting 
dark, the effect is quite noticeable. If brought into a room 
already aflood with light, the light does not seem brighter, 
though the candlelight has been added. There is the same 
addition of stimulus in each case, but there is not the same 
increase in brightness. Take a weight of one ounce in the 
hand ; add another to it : the weight or pressure sensation 
is greater than that of the one ounce. Supposing there was 
a two-pound weight in the hand, would the addition of an 
ounce weight really seem to add to the weight or pressure ? 
No, it would not be noticed. And yet there has been in the 
two cases the same addition of stimulus, but not attended 
with the same increase of sensation intensity. Increase of 
sensation intensity, then, does not always go along with 
increase of streng'th of stimulus. 



SENSE STIMULATION: SENSATION 105 

Careful experimentation along these lines has resulted, 
as we have said, in the establishment of a certain law of 
relationship between increase of intensity of sensation and 
increase of strength of stimulus. This is called Weber's 
Law, and may be stated in this way. In order that there 
may be a regular increase of intensities of sensations, the 
increase in the strength of the stimulations must bear a 
constant relation to the strength of the stimulus itself. 
Thus in the case of the weights resulting in intensity of 
the pressure sensations, a weight of twenty-one ounces 
would seem just heavier than a weight of twenty ounces ; 
but it would take a weight of forty-two ounces to seem 
greater than a weight of forty ounces. In either case it 
would be an increase of one twentieth. This is the regular 
fractional increase of strength of stimulus necessary in the 
case of pressure sensations in order that differences in in- 
tensities of these sensations may be noticed. The fraction 
differs in the different sense departments. In the case of 
noises, the fractional increase must be one third ; but the 
principle is the same, although it should be said that the 
law and its fractional expression have not, as yet, been 
fully worked out in all sense departments. For brightness 
the fraction is one one-hundredth. 

That our statement, "The intensity of sensations depends 
upon the strength or intensity of the stimulations of the 
sense organs," must be qualified, is, then, very apparent. 
First, consciousness does not respond at all to many very 
slight intensities of stimulations ; second, when stimulation 
intensities are very great, the sensation does not increase 
in intensity, the limit being reached ; third, the principle 
involved in Weber's Law must be taken into account 
throughout the range of moderate sensation intensities. 
The reasons for these three qualifications are, undoubtedly, 



106 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

physiological, and it would not be profitable to discuss 
them here. Nor need we discuss here the further modifymg 
influence of expectation and of variations of the attention ; 
this will be spoken of later. 

Other sensation attributes. Duration, clearness, and ex- 
tent, as attributes of sensation, have been referred to. The 
two former apply to all sensations, the latter to sensations 
of brightness, color, and pressure. The sensation may. be 
of longer or shorter duration. It may occupy a clear and 
distinct place in consciousness, or it may be rather vague. 
The brightness or color may be small or spread out. The 
pressure may be widespread or the reverse. In early life, 
and merely as sensation experiences having duration and 
extent, they are not definitely temporal and spatial. It re- 
quires considerable development of the child's mind, and 
considerable refining and building up of sensation material 
into perceptions and ideas, before there is any definite con- 
sciousness of " how long " and " how large," that is of our 
ordinary notions of duration and succession, and of size 
and distance. These vague duration and extent features of 
early immature sense experience make possible, it seems, 
our more developed and more definite ideas concerning 
space and time. 

We have spoken as if each of the attributes of sensation 
were independent of one another. This is not true, strictly 
speaking, but nearly enough true for the practical purposes 
of an elementary text. In more advanced work in psychol- 
ogy one would need to examine carefully the modifying 
effects produced on each of these attributes by change in 
the others. 

Functions of sensation. Reference has already been made 
to the mam function or use of sensations in the conscious 
life of the organism, namely, to furnish the material to be 



SENSE STIMULATION: SENSATION 107 

developed into perceptions and ideas for the guidance of the 
organism in making superior adjustments to the conditions 
of its life, conditions physical, social, and spnntual. There 
is, of course, another use to which sensations seem to be 
put. Certain actions of what might be called a low grade 
are performed in direct response to stimuli which are 
attended by sensations. To act just as the sensation or 
impulse prompts, without regard to anythmg else, would 
describe the case referred to. Some of these are under 
one's control, others are not. Sneezing cannot always be 
checked, but hunger, thu'st, warmth, cold, pain, etc. may 
lead directly to action to satisfy the physical organism, 
though they usually are subject to appropriate prudential, 
social, and moral restraint. 

Practical applications. We shall reserve for the next chap- 
ter our discussion of the matter of the practical and educa- 
tional aspects of the use of the senses in sense-perception, 
observation, etc. Here, however, attention should be called 
to the importance of so carefully treatmg the organs of 
sense that they may be able to do their best work. Exact 
and definite ideas can only be obtained tlirough exact sense 
impressions. The eyes, the ears, and other sense organs 
must be in good working order physically, or they cannot 
furnish the mind with proper material to work with. Their 
usefuhiess as sense organs will depend largely upon their 
condition, and on regular thoroughgoing exercise of them 
in their work. Many people, old and young, do not see or 
hear correctly, just because, as pieces of mechanism, their 
eyes or ears do not work properly, either from inherent de- 
fects, which can quite likely be remedied, or from mechanical 
defects in the home, schoolroom, shop, or office. 

Every care should be taken that the eyes, ears, and all 
responsive organs of sense shall be able to respond in a 



108 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

delicate, sensitive, and exact way to all features of environ- 
ment as given in stimulation, in order that accurate and 
abundant material may be at hand for the building up of 
knowledge. Every care should also be taken that much use 
and exercise be given the sense organs in their work, in 
order to get much exact material for ideas and m order 
that they may work more sensitively and exactly all the 
while. 

REFERENCES 

TiTCHENER. An Outline of Psychology, Chapters II, III, and IV. 
WiTMER. Analytical Psychology, Chapters V, VI, and VII. 
Angell. Psychology, Chapter V. 
JuDD. Psychology^ Cha]3ter V. 



CHAPTER VI 

THE COMPLEX PROCESSES OF SENSE STIMULATION: 
PERCEPTION 

We become more or less directly aware of the objects 
about us by means of our senses. We see the house, the 
tree ; we hear the piano, the clock striking ; we taste 
foods ; we touch various objects ; and in all these cases 
we are aware of, or perceive, the objects concerned. This 
consciousness or awareness is called perception or sense-per- 
ception. And so perception may be defined as the con- 
sciousness of physical objects which stimulate or affect the 
sense organs. It is true that we often use the term "per- 
ceive " as equivalent to " understand " or " comprehend," 
but in psychology the terms " perceive " and " perception" 
are reserved for this special use of being directly aware by 
means of our senses of physical objects with which we come 
into contact. 

Much of our conscious life consists of these sense-per- 
ceptions. As the stream of consciousness flows on in our 
ordinary experience, we are constantly perceiving objects 
and having ideas of objects remembered or imagined. Of 
course perception of an object or of several objects may 
occupy at any time a larger or smaller place in any state 
of consciousness. If one were looking at a new fountain 
pen he might have practically nothing else in mind, except 
perhaps some pleasure in its possession, and some aware- 
ness of the other physical objects about him in the fringe 
of his consciousness. The pen at another time, however, 

109 



110 AN INTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

might be but one of many objects in the field of vision, and 
the mmd might be much occupied with memories, feelings, 
and determinations, as well as with the slight perceptive 
notice of the pen. Perceptions, memories, and imaginations 
of objects are all-important in the life of the individual, for 
they furnish us with knowledge of the world about us 
and make possible mtelligent and useful actions with re- 
spect to our environment, as will be explained later in the 
chapter. 

"We have just spoken of perception of objects, and also 
of memories and imaginations of those objects. Without 
trying to notice the differences between memory and imag- 
ination of objects, it will be well to point out some distinc- 
tions between these mental states on the one hand and 
perceptions on the other. The great difference is that in 
perception the object is directly presented to the senses, 
while in memory and imagination this would, of course, not 
be the case. Another difference, and apparently a conse- 
quence of the first, is that the perception is regularly more 
distinct and vivid than an idea, memory, or imagination 
of the object. In spite of these differences we shall soon 
have occasion to see that, in structure, perception and ideas 
or memories of objects are decidedly more alike than they 
are different. 

Perception compared with sensation. We must next in- 
quire how perception as a process in consciousness differs 
from sensation. First, a perception is always a perception 
of somethmg. It has a constant reference to some object. 
It stands in consciousness for the object. Sensation, on the 
other hand, simply exists for itself in consciousness, is in 
this way subjective, and does not stand sponsor for some 
object in the outer world. We notice the sensation just for 
itself, the perception as the revealer of an object. Second, 



SENSE STIMULATION: PERCEPTION 111 

the sensation is a simple elemental process. It cannot be an- 
alyzed into anything else. Is this the case with the percep- 
tion ? We have already practically answered this question 
in connection with our treatment of sensation. Perception, 
as we experience it, seems like a single pulse of conscious- 
ness, a unit, and in one sense this is true. To hear the 
clock striking, to see the house across the street, — neither 
is, apparently, a complex mental experience, but a simple 
one ; yet the moment one begins to analyze the idea or per- 
ception of the object, it falls apart readily enough into the 
various features, corresponding to the qualities of the ob- 
ject concerned. The attention now dwells on this feature, 
now on that ; and each feature, simple in itself, seems to 
belong to the whole idea or perception of the object. As 
was pointed out at the beginning of the last chapter, the 
idea -or perception of the orange was complex rather than 
simple. In its constant reference to some outer thing or 
object, and in its being really complex rather than simple 
and elemental in consciousness, the perception differs from 
the mere sensation. 

Analysis of perception. If the perception is complex in 
its nature, it will be well to ask of what it is made up. 
The orange may be perceived by simply looking at it ; so 
the desk. What do we get by means of direct sensation 
in these cases ? Visual sensations of colors and shades. 
The color and shading of the desk or orange, however, 
are but a small part of the whole perception. There is the 
taste of the orange, its odor, the way it feels to the hand, 
etc. There is the smoothness of the desk, its hardness, its 
coolness, its uses, etc. Where do these features come from 
in my present perception of these two objects ? From mem- 
ory, of course, of former sensation experiences in connection 
with these objects. These features of the objects wliich do 



112 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

not now come directly through the eyes are so firmly asso- 
ciated with the sight sensations which I now do get directly 
from the orange or desk that they are just as real to me as 
the colors and shadings, and just as really form parts of the 
perceptions. We have, then, already, two sets of factors 
entermg mto the make-up of the perception ; namely, the 
sensations which I now get from actually seeing (or hear- 
ing, or touching, tastmg, etc., as the case may be) the objects, 
and the sensations which I remember m connection with 
these actually present sensations. 

Is there any further factor or set of factors besides the 
present sensations and the memory images which go to 
make up the perception ? Yes, one very prominent set of 
features ; namely, the location or position of the thing, its 
size and shape, and its movement. These we may sum up 
under the head of the space properties of all objects. These 
features are not directly obtained from any present or re- 
membered sensation, — as are color, taste, hardness, sound, 
etc., — and yet are quite as conspicuously parts of the per- 
ception. The perception is made up, then, of (1) present 
sensations, (2) memory images of former sense experiences, 
and (3) the space properties of the objects perceived. 

Problems of perception. The problem of perception, then, 
becomes. How is this combmation of present sensations and 
memory images of former sense experiences mto a percep- 
tion of a thmg, an mdividual, external thing, brought about? 
and further. How is it that the object perceived comes to 
have all the spatial properties as well ? It will be well to 
take up these two parts of the problem separately, though 
in the actual experience of the growmg child both processes 
are going on at the same time. 

Conditions of perception. Before attempting the solution 
of this double problem of perception, it will be well to take 



SENSE STIMULATION: PERCEPTION 113 

note of some general conditions of the perception process, 
though these can be fully described only in connection with 
the description of the perception process itself. 

First, the physiological co7iditions. As we have seen in 
Chapter IV, the child is all the while impulsively and m- 
stinctively active. AH the bodily organs are in constant 
use, resultmg in a knowledge of the organs themselves and 
of the things with which these organs may come in contact. 
They are m constant use, too, in adjusting the body to its 
environment and m adjusting the envu'onment for the use 
of the child. These sense organs are thus active, and are 
in active cooperation m getting control of the bodily mem- 
bers and the environment. The nervous system, too, is in 
action in connection with this sense stimulation, and motor 
reaction. The various nerve centers act m unison and must 
have a structural connection m order that this cooperation 
in action may be carried on. That is to say, when acquamt- 
ance with.. an object, for instance an apple, is bemg formed, 
the nerve centers in the bram concerned with sight, with 
touch, with taste, with smell, etc., and also the motor cen- 
ters for handlmg, tastmg, and looking at the apple, are 
being exercised at practically the same time. This series 
of bram cells thereby gets mto a habit of actmg together, so 
that when, at a later state of development, a certain color, 
means a perception of apple to the child, as it does to us, 
the stimulation of the brain-cell group for sight leads by 
bram habit to the immediate stimulation of the other brain- 
cell groups concerned. Thus physiologically the basis of 
the perception is a kind of bram habit, and the centers 
concerned act as a unit. The physiological conditions of 
perception, then, are (1) the activity of the members of the 
body, (2) the receptiveness of the sense organs in being 
affected by stimulations from without, so that all these 



114 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

organs may act together, and (3) the formation of a brain 
habit, or the estabhshing of a functional connection, by 
means of association tracts, between the various brain 
centers concerned. 

The second general condition is the activity of the atten- 
tion. Each sense experience, or group of sensations, comes 
to be noticed, to claim the attention. In this way different 
sensations or sensation groups are distinguished, compared, 
contrasted. The various sensations experienced are made 
prominent, so that intelligent use can be made of them. 
The development of sensations, as sensations, and that of 
perception, go hand in hand. That amount of attention will 
be given in each case which the interests and needs of the 
organism call for. The result is a very " knowing " kind 
of an experience with respect to the material furnished by 
the seiises. This material may be said to be thoroughly 
worked over m the way of differentiation and comparison. 

But, as already mdicated in Chapter V, and as will be 
more fully explained in Chapter VIII, not only does the 
attention work by analysis and discrimination, giving us in 
this case the distinguishable sensation elements, but it also 
works by way of synthesis, or grouping and welding to- 
gether any sense impressions which are experienced at the 
same time. This is made possible by the physiological con- 
ditions mentioned above. This second aspect of the work 
of attention — the associating and fusing together of the 
various sensations concerned, which is a constant tendency 
of consciousness — is what makes possible on the conscious 
side the havmg of perceptions. 

The third general condition is the fact of memory. Each 
of the sensation experiences is more or less well remembered, 
so that the developing child profits in habits and in knowl- 
edge by his experiences. The attention is given to these 



SENSE STIMULATION: PERCEPTION 115 

memory images as well as to present sense experiences. 
They, too, are worked over, distinguished, compared, asso- 
ciated, and fused. 

Habit, interest, and expectation are all of great impor- 
tance in determining the nature of our perceptions, and may 
be grouped together as the fourth general condition of the 
perception process. We tend to perceive that which we are 
interested in. What we are expecting to see is likely to in- 
fluence our sight perception. What we are m the habit of 
noticing under certam circumstances will decidedly prej- 
udice our notions of what we do perceive. How this set 
of influences works to influence our perceptions will be 
brought out later in the chapter. 

These four general conditions of the perception process 
in its growth and in its use, it will be well to keep in mind, 
and their place and importance will be more apparent as 
we go on. With these things in mmd, let us next take 
up the two main features of the problem of perception : (1) 
how the various sensations and sense images come to be 
combined mto a perception of a thmg and its properties, 
and (2) how those properties of objects which we call 
spatial (location, size, shape, etc.) grow up in consciousness. 

The thing and its properties. The activities of the child 
in connection with handlmg, seeing, and tastmg objects, re- 
sult in his consciousness m a complex of sensations. These 
are noticed, attended to, and remembered as their impor- 
tance for his instincts and feelings warrants. The fact that 
they are experienced together tends to their fusion. Little 
by little the various features of the sensation complexes 
become noticed for their own sakes. In so far as they are 
of interest and claim the attention will they be remembered, 
and in so far as they are experienced together in an mter- 
ested way will they tend to fuse together and become a 



116 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

unit in the child's mind. The different parts of the experi- 
ences come to belong together; each will suggest at least 
some of the others, so that when, for example, the sight 
of the food is experienced, the taste will be suggested. The 
object that is handled may also be seen and perhaps tasted. 
These different parts of the sensation complexes come to be 
so closely allied that one of them, if now experienced, will 
suggest the rest. Hence the formation of the perception of 
the unit thing. The whole experience comes to be a percep- 
tion of the thing, and each sensation comes to be a part of 
the perception of the thing, or a quality of it. The taste 
sensation becomes the taste of the thing, and so with the 
touch, the color, the smell, the sound it makes, etc. Each 
is a part of the experience now unified into the thmg. The 
process is helped on by a name being given, whereupon 
the name becomes, m a way, another quality, or mark, or 
handle of the thing. It is thus seen that a perception is a 
real achievement on the part of the developing mind, and 
not something presented to it as a whole from without. 

In this process we see the working of the physiological 
conditions as cited above, the organs working together 
under the control of the nervous system. We notice also 
the activity of the attention going along with the interests 
and needs of the child. The memory, too, is in active use 
in calling up features not now given in direct sensation. 
The fusion or association of the various parts of the sensa- 
tion complex is going on in a very thorough way. The 
interests of the child determine largely what parts of the 
experience will be noticed, remembered, and associated ; in 
other words, what qualities the thing will have for him. 

Space perception. We are now in a position to explain 
how the second part of the process goes on, how those 
properties of the thing which we call spatial grow up in 



SENSE STIMULATION: PERCEPTION 117 

consciousness. It must be remembered, however, that the 
two processes are gomg on at the same time, and that we 
are separating the two parts here for the sake of conven- 
ience in the telling. 

The properties of the objects about us, other than the 
spatial ones, that isj taste, color, sound, weight, smell, etc., 
are given so directly in sensation that the process of getting 
them together as qualities of objects seems a very simple 
one. But when we come to the location and shape of the 
object, the case is different. We seem now to obtain these 
qualities dhectly by touch and sight. A little reflection 
will show, however, that these are not direct sensations, like 
color or taste. They must have grown up out of some 
other sensations which have required a great deal of work- 
ing over and translating in order that we may now get, 
more or less directly, the spatial properties of objects along 
with the rest. The problem then becomes a double onei 
Out of what simple sensation complexes have our spatial 
notions grown, and by what means have we been able to 
work them up and translate them in order that we may 
get, seemmgly directly through eyes and by touch, the spa- 
tial properties of objects ? 

These spatial properties we may take up as location, size 
and shape, and movement. First, let us discover out of 
what sensation complexes have our notions of location come, 
— location on our own bodies, location on surfaces outside 
of us, and location away from us, or distance. 

Location. The active child with movmg hands and feet is 
ever exploring his body as well as other things. In so far 
as this is reported in consciousness, we have (1) a series 
of sensation complexes of the cutaneous sort, the touching 
and the being touched, differing somewhat as the various 
parts of the body are explored ; (2) sensations resulting 



118 AN IKTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

from the various movements, sensations of the muscular, 
articular, and tendinous sort, differing in degree of inten- 
sity. The eyes ever follow the explorations, and there will 
be obtained as the different parts of the body are explored 
(3) somewhat different visual images, colors, and bright- 
ness sensations. The words naming the parts come, after 
a while, to stand in the mind for the touch, movement, and 
sight experiences. These three sets of sensation complexes 
seem to be the original sensation material out of which, 
with the help of the names, we obtain our notions of loca- 
tion on the body. They are called the " local signs " of 
position on the surface of the body. As these sensation 
complexes or local signs are experienced, now one sort, 
now another, they are attended to, their differences come 
to be somewhat noticed, they are repeated time and time 
again, they are remembered, compared, contrasted. They 
thus come to have significance as means of location, or are 
real local signs. Gradually they come to be translated by 
the attentive, discriminating mmd into this feature of the 
spatial notion which we call " location on the surface of the 
body." So well is this translation carried on that when, now, 
a certain part of the body is affected, we know where it is 
and can definitely locate it. A little observation, however, 
will show that this matter of location on the body is not 
exact, and that it is more definite at some parts of the body 
than it is at others. Experiments have been performed to 
show the average amount of mexactness at the different 
parts. We may say that the ability to locate exactly im- 
pressions on the various parts of the body is as great as 
the Iffe necessities of the species and the individual have 
called for. 

At the same time that this bodily location is going on, 
there are growing up notions of location upon an extended 



SENSE STIMULATION: PERCEPTION 119 

surface outside us. The hands are exploring and the eyes 
are wide open and moving too. As the hands move over 
extended surfaces, a series of touch sensations and one of 
kinsesthetic sensations are experienced, and, what is now 
even more important, visual sensations are very prominent. 
The surface presents colors to the eye, different in differ- 
ent parts, making a sort of series of color sensations. Along 
with these will be the muscular and strain sensations result- 
ing from the movement of the eyes. All these sensations — 
cutaneous, visual, and those resulting from movement of 
hands and of eyes — make a series, which, when attended 
to, compared, contrasted, remembered, become adequate 
local signs for the mind to translate as positions or loca- 
tions upon an extended surface. 

Great differences are noticed in the abilities of different 
people in determining the length, breadth, and height of 
objects. The necessities of life call for greater accuracy on 
the part of some than on that of others. The carpenter, 
for instance, has the necessity for correct perceptions in 
such respects, and usually develops the capacity. This 
accomplishment means that he has come gradually to note 
carefully certain aspects of the sense impressions obtained 
from the objects to which the unpracticecl observer pays 
little attention. Pupils in school who use rulers and who 
have manual-training work, develop this capacity better 
than those who do not. These facts go to bear out the truth 
that this matter of locating on an extended surface and 
judging of length on such a surface is a gradual acquire- 
ment on the part of the developing mind, and not, to begin 
with, a matter of direct intuition. 

With respect to locating things at a distance, or in the 
third dimension, we may say that again visual, tactual, 
and movement sensations are in use. The learnino" of 



120 AN INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

amount of distance from us is, primarily, largely in terms 
of movement and strain. The greater the movement and 
strain, the farther away is the thing, such seems the natural 
interpretation. As the development goes on, however, visual 
sensations become more important. We locate things as a 
certain distance away from us, largely by eyesight, and do 
it more or less accurately according to our individual expe- 
riences. These sensation complexes which serve us as local 
signs of distance have not been thoroughly made out. It 
is probable, however, that two sorts of sensation experiences 
serve largely as these local signs ; first, the slight differ- 
ences between the sense images as obtained by the two eyes, 
and second, the differences in strain, etc., in the matter 
of the convergence of the eyes in locating objects as near 
or as far away. 

That locating at a distance, or perceiving how far away 
objects are from us, is a matter developed in experience, is 
shown by the way people differ in this- respect. At the sea- 
shore the boat which the sailor will see to be perhaps three 
miles away may be thought by the summer visitor to be 
less than a mile. Objects intervening between the observer 
and the distant point will influence the notion of distance. 
An unusually clear atmosphere will make things seem 
nearer, a hazy day will make them seem farther away. A 
view of the ground between, when objects are noticed at 
intervals along the way, is often relied on for a correct per- 
ception of the distance. Practice tends to make this percep- 
tion more nearly perfect, and those who are called on by 
their occupations to make use of such knowledge are 
usually more accurate than others. 

Size and shape. Next in order comes the discussion of 
the perception of objects as to their size or extent and form. 
This part of the perception is carried on at the same time 



SENSE STIMULATION: PERCEPTION 121 

that the thing is becoming located for us, and largely by 
the same set of local signs. In the use of these local signs, 
one feature is of especial importance. From the first, visual 
sensations and those of pressure have the attribute, in a 
^vagu6 way, of extent. The extent of pressure sensations, 
of colors and shades, the following of boundary lines by 
hands and eyes, come gradually to mean form and extent. 
The sudden changes in the sensation complex, when eyes 
and hands are going around corners, heighten the impres- 
sion and call attention to themselves. Another prominent 
feature in our sensation complexes in obtaining our notion 
of form in the third dimension is the matter of shading, 
or shadows, on the objects. This local sign is so quickly 
interpreted as depth that little attention is called to it on 
its own account. It becomes prominent, however, when in 
drawing we wish to give the impression of solidity, which 
is done largely by the aid of shading. Perception of the 
extent and form of objects is but an mterpretation of cer- 
tain local signs or sensation complexes, and is worked 
out by the mind in much the same way as perception of 
location and position. 

Extent of movement. The third feature of space percep- 
tion, that of extent of movement, grows up in the mind 
along with the other two. When the notions of position 
are fairly well made out, and the object is seen or felt in 
different positions, the first feature of the extent of move- 
ment is already at hand. As the hand moves over the body, 
not only will its location from time to time be fairly evi- 
dent, but as the different sensations or local signs are 
aroused, some will remain in consciousness as after-images, 
after the stimulus, the moving hand, has passed on. The 
strain and muscular sensations arising from the movement 
will persist more or less in the same way. The visual 



122 AN INTKODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

sensations, changing all the while, will persist in memory to 
even a greater extent than the others. By the help of these 
after-images and memories of pressure, articular and visual 
sensations giving us at one and the same time ideas of the 
object as in the different positions, the notion of movement 
grows up. The same idea becomes more prominent as 
attention is called to the muscular and strain sensations in 
connection with movement of arms, etc., upon other sur- 
faces than those of the body. It becomes still more promi- 
nent when there is a quick change of visual sensations, 
caused by seeing a moving object, and by amount of strain 
sensations, caused by eyes moving and head turning in 
f oUowmg the moving object, as the child instinctively does 
follow it. These series of sensations, remaining as after- 
images and as memory images after the stimulus has 
changed, give the local signs which, when attended ,to, 
compared, repeated, and contrasted, produce in the mind 
the notion of movement and its extent or amount. 

We have thus related the various kinds of sensation 
complexes of eye, skin, muscle, joint, etc., which serve us 
as local signs for the building up of the various features of 
our perceptions of objects as spatial, namely, location, size 
and form, and extent of movement. We have also indicated 
how the mind gradually works up or translates these local 
signs into the finished features of our perception. Having 
done this, it will be easy to see how these spatial features 
are joined with the other qualities of the objects, making 
up the total perception. These spatial features are attended 
to, singled out, and finally associated and fused with the 
other features, such as color, taste, sound, smell, weight, etc. 
The spatial features become part and parcel of the thing 
just as the other features or qualities do, and are as directly 
perceived. 



SENSE STIMULATION: PERCEPTION" 123 

We may say, then, that the perception is made up of pres- 
ent sensations, memory images of former sensations, and 
the translations into spatial features of certain present and 
remembered sensation complexes which serve as local signs. 
The process of making the perception out of these mate- 
rials depends, as we have seen, upon the work of the atten- 
tion in distinguishing, comparing, contrasting, etc., and 
especially upon the power of association in fusing into a 
unit the various features. 

Habit, interest, and expectation as influencing perception. 
We thus see that external objects do not swim bodily into 
consciousness, and also that our perceptions are not imme- 
diate copyings of the outer objects. We are supplied with 
certain sense impressions from without, and we use these 
and other material as well in building our perceptions. We 
have seen how important the process of attention is in this 
building, and also the power of association. There are cer- 
tain other features of the behavior of consciousness in this 
work of construction which call for some further notice. 
These were mentioned above as the fourth condition or 
set of conditions of the process of perception in its growth 
and in its more mature exercise, and are habit, interest, 
and expectation. As will be seen, these conditions are prac- 
tically but three phases of one and the same process. 

The first one is habit. When we are accustomed to see- 
ing a thing or person in a certain place regularly, we are 
quite easily lead astray if that place is temporarily taken 
by some other person or thing, if our attention is not espe- 
cially called to some features of difference between the new 
object and the accustomed one. So much is what we see, 
or think we see, a matter of mterpretation of our sense 
impressions, that in such a case we should confidentially 
assert that we saw the accustomed thing even when its 



124 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

place had been taken by the new object. This, of course, 
would be an illusion, but would seem to us an ordinary 
perception. The main features of the pseudoperception, 
as well as of a real perception, are contributed by our 
minds according to habit. A more careful examination 
might reveal the mistake. Habit then, we may say, plays 
an important part in the forming of perceptions, even to 
the extent sometimes of leading us astray. 

In fact perception, based, as we have seen, on the habit- 
ual activity of the brain cells concerned as its prime physio- 
logical basis, might well be called a mental habit. When 
in sight of an object the stimuli come to the eye and the 
brain, and the visual sensations appear in consciousness, it 
is the habitual, immediate interpretation of these sensations 
that really makes the perception in consciousness of the 
hillside, building, tree, person, railroad train, or penholder, 
or whatever is more or less attentively looked at. The 
process works so smoothly in most cases that we are not 
puzzled to make out a meaning to what we see, but per- 
ceive the object as quick as a flash. This ease and quick- 
ness, really the working of mental habit in the case, should 
not mislead us into thinking that no mental labor has been 
undergone beforehand. But past experiences have so devel- 
oped in our minds by attentive mental effort, that habitual 
mastery in interpreting impressions has been attained. 

Another feature of our mental life which plays a decided 
part in the formation of perception is interest. Those sense 
impressions from our environment which interest us msist 
on notice, while many features lacking in present interest 
are ignored. These sense impressions are joined in making 
up our perceptions by those features of our memory images 
which are of interest, and we thus tend to perceive that 
in which we are interested. Our fears and desires may thus 



SENSE STIMULATION^: PERCEPTION" 125 

lead us to build up certaiu perceptions which another per- 
son might not have in the same environment, and which we 
might not have at another time. Our feelings may thus 
mislead us and cause us to perceive falsely. The footfall 
may not be the footstep of the person we are longing to see, 
even though we may be sure that we hear that person 
coming. The slight noise at night may not be, after all, 
the dreaded burglar, even though we are sure we hear him 
breaking into the house. But, again, our feelings may be 
of great assistance to us, and we may, by our very sensi- 
tiveness and interest, observe facts which would otherwise 
not enter into consciousness at all. 

Interest not only leads us to notice and perceive certain 
objects in our environment at the expense of others, but 
it also leads us to discover new aspects or features of the 
thmgs in which we have the interest. Our interest makes 
perception partial, makes certain features of an object or 
person stand out strongly, and also tends to make us ignore 
what in these things or people we do not care to see. 
AVhen interests change, the content of our stream of con- 
sciousness as given to us in perception will also change. 
Perception is thus very dependent on interest. 

A third feature is expectation. This is closely allied with 
the other two we have just mentioned, habit and interest. 
The mind is ready to see a certain thing or person. The 
proper grouping of memory images is all ready to receive 
the sense impressions which would naturally come from the 
object expected. When the sense impressions do come the 
object is perceived very quickly. We are so eager, so confi- 
dent, that some different object may furnish us with certam 
impressions near enough like the ones expected to have us 
fail to notice the difference ; so that while our expectation 
may lead us in most cases to perceive very quickly and 



126 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

accurately the object we expect when it comes, it does for 
the very same reason sometimes lead us astray, so that we 
may think we see or hear the object expected when in 
reality it is another object that is present to our senses. 

These three features, — habit, interest, and expectation, 
— are not to be thought of as in any way separate from the 
attention, the memory images, and the power of association 
in building up our perceptions. They are just the ways in 
which the attention behaves ; they are the conditions of the 
use of the memory images and of the associating process 
in the case. The attention is at work all the while, the 
memory images of past experiences are used as material, 
the fusing power of association is in exercise, and all of 
their building work is going on largely under the influence 
of habit, interest, and expectation. 

Perception a mental reaction. The mind perceives, then, 
what it is prepared to perceive. Present sense impressions 
tend to call up certain associates with which the new im- 
pressions seem, according to our experience, to belong, and 
we then see what we have the preparation to perceive. In 
fact, perception might be defined from this point of view 
as the interpretation of sense impressions by those ideas 
which have been stored up in the mind as the product of 
past experience, or, more shortly, the interpretation of 
present sense impressions by experience. Present impres- 
sion and experience thus fuse to make the perception. The 
present impression might be compared to the match which 
sets off the firecracker or explosive material. The material 
set off would represent the idea material in the mind accu- 
mulated by experience. The impression is the pressing of 
the button, or the pulling of the lever, while the machinery 
thus set going would represent the content of the mind. 
Perceiving is thus a mental reaction, the mind furnishing 



SENSE STIMULATION: PERCEPTION 127 

in most cases the greater part of the material for the product 
called " perception," or a " percept." 

The nature of illusions. In these last paragraphs we have 
the further suggestion that, in their make-up, incorrect 
perceptions, or illusions, are not so very different from valid 
perceptions. Let us notice a little further the nature of 
these illusory experiences, in the hope that they, while 
abnormal, may tlirow a little light upon the nature of the 
perception process proper. 

Take some simple examples of illusion. First, a very 
old example of an illusion of touch. Cross two fingers, the 





d 
Fig. 14. Perception of length as influenced by surroundings 

forefinger and the middle one, and place a small object, 
say a marble, between them so as to touch both. The object 
feels to be two. The illusion is easily dispelled by looking. 
Ordinarily in order to affect the two fingers in this way, 
two objects would be necessary. Hence the mind in per- 
ceiving two objects is simply following out in its construc- 
tion of the case what would ordinarily be true. Take next 
a very simple sight illusion in the matter of spatial extent. 
The four horizontal lines m Fig. 14 are of the same length, 
and yet ordmary perception of them without measurement 
would not so decide. 



128 A^ INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

As we know, the length of lines is largely an interpreta- 
tion of eye movement. In a the movement is naturally very 
greatly extended beyond the line, in c somewhat beyond, in 
h not at all, while in d there is a decided check or holdback 
to the eye. The line in a is estimated to be longer than 
that m c, c than J, h than d. This is, of course, an illusion, 
but a natural one, resulting from the fact that our percep- 
tion of length is largely in terms of amount of movement 
of the eye. Here again the verdict of the mind is untrue, 
just because it is true to its natural way of interpretation ; 
that is, the greater the movement, the longer the line. 

Take the case where some excitable person sees a ghost 
in a haunted house. Perhaps, on passing the house at night, 
on account of some reflection there is a flash of light at 
the window. Instead of realizmg what the object, the re- 
flection, really is, the excitable individual with his mind 
full of the notion of seeing a ghost, and perhaps fearing 
such an experience, thinks it a ghost. The glint of white 
is misinterpreted. The feelings are so wrought up, and the 
expectation so keen, that even such a slight suggestion 
through the sense organs is enough to complete the percep- 
tion process, illusory though it is. The greater the excite- 
ment and expectation, the more likely the illusion. 

Illusion may be defined as a mistaken interpretation of 
sense impressions. Some object is present, the sense organs 
are stimulated, but for one reason or another, as alread}- 
outlined, an illusion results. Such experiences tend to bear 
out strongly the description of the perceiving process given 
above, that what the mind itself contributes on account of 
its experience, is after all a very important, if not the most 
important, part of every perception, normal or illusory. The 
perception process, even when it goes astray, is still very 
obviously acting in the way of normal perceiving ; that is^ 



SENSE STIMULATION: PERCEPTION 129 

it is interpreting present sense experience all the while, by 
associated memory images under the guidance of the atten- 
tion ; while habit, interest, and expectation are ever present 
to help mold the product. 

There is another class of cases, which seem to the per- 
son having them to be perceptions, called hallucinations. 
These may be called illusions of a very extreme type. 
Apparently in these cases there is no stimulus coming from 
the outer world to the senses which should give rise to the 
false perception. At any rate they are not simply mistakes 
in interpreting the nature of an object present to the senses. 
Hallucination may be defined as perceiving objects or 
persons when there are no objects or persons there to be 
perceived. It is not simply vivid imagination, as the object 
is really believed to be present. Such cases seem to indicate 
an abnormal condition of brain and mind. Under great 
nervous strain, exhaustion, grief, or terror, sometimes under 
diseased conditions of sense organs, hallucination may ap- 
pear. Of course, in dreams and in insanity, they are very 
frequent. Explanations of such cases must be left to the 
description of the pathology of the mind. 

To explain hallucinations which come to the normal wak- 
ing mmd under unusual circumstances (abnormal mental 
activity in this sense), two theories have been advanced. 
The first would make them simply extremely vivid imag- 
inations, so clear and strong that they are mistaken for per- 
ceptions. The apparent absence of any object calculated 
to call them up seems to uphold this theory. The other 
theory is that there is some stimulus from without in each 
case, but that it is difficult to trace. The bereaved mother 
who apparently sees her dead child come into the room, sit, 
down, and talk to her, is in such a nervous condition, and 
her mind is so filled with grief and memory of the child. 



130 A^ mTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

that any slight noise outside the door, in itself unnoticed, 
might be enough to awaken the vision to the reality of 
perception. If this theory is correct, and it seems the more 
probable, these cases of hallucmation fit in with the general 
theory and description of perception and illusion. In all 
the cases, it is the mind's own interpretation of what is pre- 
sented to it in sense impressions, be these large in amount 
or so small as to be ordinarily unnoticed, that makes the 
believed-in perception. 

The function of perception. In the treatment of percep- 
tion as well as that of sensation the main part of the story 
is taken up with the nature of these processes from the 
structural point of view. But their functions are important 
and should not be lost sight of. The first function of per- 
ception is its guidance of conduct by mterpreting sense 
stimulation in terms of past experience. Perceptions are 
rich and full of meaning as compared with sensations. As 
interpretations of sense 'impressions, they are on a high 
level for knowledge and action. Of course there are higher 
conscious levels, namely, the ideational processes, such as 
conception and reasoning (to be later discussed), and the 
conscious organism relies on them for its more complex 
adjustments ; but a multitude of successful and highly m- 
telligent reactions are made on the perception level. The 
meaning of sense stimulation in terms of past experiences 
that can be brought to bear upon the present becomes a 
guide for profitable action. 

The second function of perception is the part it plays in 
the further development of knowledge. It will be made 
clear as we proceed that memory, imagination, conception, 
judgment, and reasoning are developed from perception 
experiences. Direction of conduct simply on the level of 
sense stimuli, without reference to the meaning of these 



SENSE STIMULATION: PEECEPTION 131 

stimuli, was seen to be one of the functions of sensation, 
but not a function of great value for an organism of such 
a high grade of mental development as the normal human 
beinsf. The main function of sensations was seen to be 
their use in the development of perceptions. 

Direction of conduct by reaction to sense stimuli, when 
those stimuli are enriched in meaning through being related 
to past experiences, is a very different matter. This function 
of perception can hardly be called less important than the 
second function, the providing of material for the further 
growth of knowledge, even though this knowledge in turn 
leads to even more refined and more efficient conduct. 
Both are of the deepest significance for human life and 
adjustment. 

This practically completes the description of the mental 
process called perception. There are two phases of it, how- 
ever, which we have not mentioned. These are, first, that 
the world of objects which we perceive is a world of events, 
of happenings ; in other words, the world which we per- 
ceive is in time as well as in space. The duration of events 
and their succession may be mentioned as our fundamental 
time notions. The other aspect of perception which we 
have not discussed is the fact of recognition. We not only 
see people and things but we very frequently recognize 
them. Both the time aspects of our awareness of the events 
of the world, and the fact of frequent recognition, are quite 
as important in the case of memory as in that of percep- 
tion, if not more so. It will be more convenient to take 
them up in connection with our discussion of memory, and 
the part they play in perception will then be noticed. 

The names of many mental processes have, of necessity, 
been used in dealing with the subject of perception, such 
as memory, association, interest, and attention. It was 



132 AN mTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

necessary, because, as we have seen, all these are involved 
in the perception process. We have simply called for the 
ordinary understanding of these terms, however, in the 
discussion so far. Later on, they will be discussed more 
fully on their own account. 

Training in perception and observation. As perception is 
a complex affair, compared with sensation, one would not 
expect to find its training so very simple. Nor is it. To 
perceive or observe correctly and to advantage depends on 
several conditions, and in helping to fulfill these conditions 
the teacher may be of great assistance to the pupil, while 
self-help and training depend greatly on their realization. 

Importance of trained ability to perceive. To have ability 
to perceive or observe fully, correctly, and to advantage, 
is of the utmost importance. In order to succeed in any- 
thing, one must know the facts of the case he is dealmg 
with. The artist must notice the individual parts of the 
landscape, as well as general impressions. Even to play a 
game well, one must notice carefully and quickly certain 
actions and suggested intentions of his opponents and of 
those on his own side, or he cannot act to advantage. The 
hunter and the fisherman must be wide-awake to all the 
signs of game ; they must know what to look for and must 
see it quickly and correctly. So the pilot of a boat, the 
clerk behind the counter, the customer in front of it, any- 
one, in order to succeed in what he is attemptmg, must not 
be blind, but must see, hear, observe, detect the facts, the 
important facts, carefully and exactly ; otherwise his actions 
will be wide of the mark, not adapted to the conditions 
confronting him. In other words, he will fail. 

Many pupils in school, and people outside of school, have 
very hazy, madequate ideas about many things with which 
they are supposed to be somewhat familiar. They have ■ 



SEi^SE STIMULATION: PEECEPTIOlNr 133 

heard about these things, read about them, or have seen 
them hastily and superficially. In order to build up ideas 
of things that will be true,„ and so worth a place in one's 
belief and consideration, it is not enough to get them in 
this secondhand way ; one must see, hear, feel, notice for 
one's self. How much more the ordinary boy knows about 
a dog than about an armadillo ! The dog he has observed 
more or less carefully. The armadillo is merely a curious 
name from geography. Our ideas, our conceptions, must be 
based upon perceived facts, or they Avill be either empty or 
imaginary, useless or untrue. This will be brought out more 
fully in the chapter where conception is dealt with ; but here 
we may say that not only is perception or observation a use- 
ful instrument in getting knowledge, — it is the only way. 
All the other mental operations, to be of any use, must be 
based on this one. Hence, for knowledge, as well as for its 
practical issue in conduct, how important that the mind 
should be so trained as to perceive the facts ! Nor is this 
ability as common as perhaps one would expect. Perception 
is too often so hasty, so partial, so misdirected, as to be 
almost useless for knowledge or efficient conduct. This is 
not confined to the pupils in school ; but if children are ever 
to become accurate, quick, thorough observers, perceivers 
of the facts, the exact nature of the things and situations 
with which they have to deal, the years m school are just 
the time for these results to be accomplished. How impor- 
tant, then, that this should be one of the chief cares of the 
conscientious teacher ! 

Proper adjustment of the sense organs. This feature of 
the case was referred to in the concluding paragraphs of 
the preceding chapter. There attention was called to the 
treatment of the sense organs in order that they might be 
able to do their best work, and to the necessity of supplying 



134 AI^ INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

such material in the environment that the sense organs 
might have constant opportunity for useful exercise. These 
conditions must be fulfilled, or the building up of valid and 
useful perceptions will not be possible. We must not forget 
that our perceptions are made out of sensations as raw 
material, and. memory images of such sensations. It should 
be remembered that one great function of perception is the 
interpretation of the sense stimuli in terms of past experi- 
ence. The need of the raw material is evident. There must 
be constant and active use of the sense organs. Eyes, ears, 
nose, tongue, and hands must be the means of procurmg a 
wealth of sensation material out of which the perceptions 
may be made. There are other features of the perceiving or 
observing process which it is all-important to take care of, 
but they would be of no use were it not for the open eye, 
the listening ear, the receptive organs of taste and smell, 
and the exploring hand. Material should be provided in 
the school and in the life of the young generally, for the 
exercises of all these organs. The eye is not the only 
avenue of approach to the mind, nor are indeed the eye 
and the ear the only ones. These may be, and of course are, 
the chief ones ; but in recent years, in growing measure, 
the hand has been in exercise in educational work, and in 
a less degree the organs of taste and smell. 

Attention and interest in percejjtion and observation. We 
have thus far used the terms "perception" and "observa- 
tion" synonymously. There is, however, a slight difference 
between them in our ordinary usage, which is suggestive 
for the teacher ; that difference is in the degree of attention. 
We are said to be more attentive in observing than in 
merely perceiving. It is perception of the strongly atten- 
tive sort, that is, real observation, that the teacher needs to 
secure in the pupil. The conditions of attention must be 



SENSE STIMULATION: PERCEPTION 135 

present if the facts are to be noticed by the pupil. The prob- 
lem of securing observation becomes, then, practically the 
same as the problem of securing the attention. Genuine 
interest and attention must be given to the matter in hand, 
or the facts will not be learned in such a way as to be of 
use. The bare superficial perception, to which little atten- 
tion is given, can hardly be said to be a real perception. It 
certainly does not fulfill the natural function of perception, 
the interpretation of the sense stimuli. It is merely a tem- 
porary impression which has no value for knowledge. It 
certainly is not observation. And yet in practical school 
work, and in supposedly educative influences outside the 
school, so much that is read, so much that is heard, so 
much that is supposed to appeal strongly to the various 
sense organs, such as picture illustrations, experiments per- 
formed by the teacher, object lessons, etc., is not perceived 
in such a way as to produce any lasting impression. If 
attention and interest are lacking, the choicest books, best 
school apparatus, and richest environment will be of little 
avail in the matter of furnishing the facts of perception by 
means of which knowledge can grow. It is the reaction on 
the part of the pupil that must be obtained, or the percep- 
tion and observation will lack their vital feature. 

Observation depends upon previous knowledge. Earlier in 
this chapter it was said that we perceive what we are pre- 
pared to perceive. We are often told that we bring from 
an experience what we take to it, or at least that there is a 
proportion between the two. Underneath these statements is 
a truth second to none in its importance for the teacher. 

There are two main sets of factors in every perception, 
as we have seen, — the sense impressions, and the memory 
images which come out, as it were, to meet these sense im- 
pressions, and which, with them, make up the perception. 



136 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

These memory images, or ideas, are always much the greater 
factor. We do not attend to, notice, have any interest in, or 
observe, those sense-impression items which do not call out 
to themselves a group of memory images. No perception 
of any account, no observation, is made. " To him that 
hath, shall be given." We are able to notice, perceive, 
observe, when we have already a body of knowledge or 
stock of ideas which can seize upon sense impressions and 
make them mean something for us. We get new ideas with 
old ones. While we have to use our sense organs with 
which to observe, it is deeply true that these are only 
mstruments of observation, and that it is with our acquired 
body of knowledge that we reach out for new ideas and 
assimilate them. Lack of observation, which teachers de- 
plore, comes chiefly from the fact that the pupils are not 
prepared for the new material. To be able to know what 
to look for is all-important. 

From this it follows that the attention of the teacher 
should be given in great measure to understanding what it 
is that the pupil has to observe with. Not only must the 
physical conditions be favorable, and the sense organs in 
good condition ; not only may there be a willing disposition 
on the part of the pupil ; but the knowledge and interests 
of the pupil in the case must be known to the teacher, if 
his teaching is to be effective and his task simplified. The 
work of each year, each day, each lesson period, each mo- 
ment under direct supervision can be so arranged that it 
will be the natural thing for the pupil to observe and un- 
derstand it. Of course, this is an ideal condition, but the 
success of the teacher in calling out genuine observation is 
in proportion to its realization. 

If that which is given the pupil to learn is well adapted 
to him, if his body of knowledge is well organized and of 



SENSE STIMULATION: PERCEPTION 137 

the healthy, growing sort, then will observation of new facts 
be a natural exercise for him. There is much greater need 
for getting the child ready for the facts than the facts 
ready for the child. The plirase " power of observation " 
tends to obscure the real observing process. It is the nat- 
ural development of the child's life and knowledge that 
should be sought. If this development goes on in a healthy 
way, there is no need to invoke a mysterious power of ob- 
serving. If the conditions as we have described them are 
met, the matter of observation will take care of itseK. 

The habit of observing. The pupil may be taught little 
by little in connection with his actual work that all knowl- 
edge worthy of the name must be based on carefully ob- 
served facts. The teacher should, directly and indirectly, 
impress upon the pupil's mind the place and value of per- 
ception or observation in the acquiring of knowledge. To 
observe carefully will then tend to become a conscious aim 
or ruling ideal. In this sense will the pupil be guided into 
the habit of looking for these facts in each case as it arises. 
It would hardly meet the requirements of the case if 
the school work were so carried on that in a few subjects 
observing should, as a matter of fact, take place, with the 
further belief on the part of the teacher that a habit of ob- 
servation would thus be formed which would thereafter be 
applied in whatever work was taken up by the pupil. It 
is apparently essential that the pupil should become con- 
scious of the aim or ideal of procedure and feel its worth 
in order that it should become a general guide for further 
work. If this ruling aim is developed in the pupil's mind 
and its value felt, and if, as a matter of fact, wide observa- 
tions are made in the different studies taken up, then pre- 
sumably the good results of the observing process in school 
work will be achieved. 



138 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

Whether or not the ideal and habit of observing become 
well formed in school is not so much a matter of what 
studies are taken up as of the manner in which the work 
is conducted. All studies are good observation studies if 
properly handled. The search for the individual perceivable 
facts is what is to be encouraged ; then the sifting of these 
facts, the important from the comparatively unimportant, 
may be safely entered upon. The object of all this is the 
finding of the general rule, law, or principle, of which the 
individual facts are the manifestation. When the facts are 
thus noticed, and the general truth discovered, and when 
the application of the general truth to individual cases is 
clearly understood, then the facts may be said to be really 
known, and the patient perception and observation justified. 

Many studies in our schools are too frequently taken up 
so as to ignore this royal road to knowledge, and thus they 
fail to cultivate the ideal and habit of observation. If the 
general truths are simply heard by the pupil as statements, 
or if so read about in a book, then these truths will be ill 
understood, not being built by the pupil upon facts care- 
fully observed by himself. The pupil's knowledge is then 
bookish, as we say; he has not really got it for himself, 
and he will, m all probability, not be at all skillful in using 
it in practical life. 

We said above that all studies are good observation 
studies if properly handled. Between different studies, 
however, there are differences of degree in their practical 
availability for the purpose. In all our studies of the things 
around us, all so-called object lessons, and nature studies 
in the grades, in the natural sciences, physiology, botany, 
chemistry, etc. , it is comparatively easy to get at the indi- 
vidual facts. In this work it seems very natural to first 
examine the facts, and then from them somehow get the 



SENSE STIMULATION: PERCEPTION 139 

laws of their happening. Of course the perceiving of the 
facts, the important facts, is not always easy. The pupils 
sometimes look at the material at hand with a vacant stare. 
They are willing enough to see but are not able. It is, 
however, in connection with such work that the great ma- 
jority of pupils can be led to see the meaning of observa- 
tion, to realize its value, to be guided by it, and so to form 
in this sense an observing habit. But the same observing 
method should be encouraged in arithmetic, history, geog- 
raphy, and in fact in all the school studies. It is the true 
way to get at desirable knowledge in these studies, and it is 
only by keepmg up the practice of observing in all Imes of 
work that the right ideal and habit in the case can be 
formed. This matter will be discussed agam, and more at 
length, in the chapter in which the forming of general con- 
cepts is taken up. 

The actual obtammg of the facts by wide and careful 
observation in connection with all subjects studied is of 
course the mam educational aim from the point of view of 
perception or observation as psychology topics. It is in 
connection with this actual acquiring of subject matter or 
content that the subjective or formal aim of developing the 
ideal and habit of observing is realized. Mental content 
and mental form go together. The way to learn to observe 
is to observe. The way to make one's own the ideal and 
habit of observing is to observe and to realize what one is 
really doing in observing. The knowledge obtained by ob- 
serving, and the realization of how it was obtamed, become 
the great means for further observing. 

In summing up, then, for the present, it may be said 
that the teacher should keep constantly in mind : (1) the 
great importance of wide and thorough observation and of 
trained ability to perceive ; (2) that for proper perception 



140 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

the sense organs must be in good working order, and the 
material to be perceived must be easily available ; (3) that 
it is only by securing, in all the ways possible, the attention 
and interest of the pupils that any observation worthy of 
the name can be carried on ; (4) that, most important 
of all, observation depends upon the previous knowledge 
of the pupil, what he will see depending on what he is able 
to look for and find ; (5) that the ideal and habit of 
observation can be formed gradually by encouraging the 
practice of observing all the while in connection with all 
school studies. 

REFEEENCES 

WiTMER. Analytical Psychology, Chapters I and IV. 

Thorndike. Elements of Psychology, Section VIII. 

JuDD. Psychology, Chai^ter VI. 

Angell. Psychology, Chajster VI. 

Ladd. Outlines of Descriptive Psychology, Chapter IX. 



CHAPTER VII 

THE SIMPLE AFFECTIVE PROCESSES: AFFECTION 
AND FEELING 

In Chapters V and VI the nature of the mental proc- 
esses, sensation and sense-perception, has been discussed. 
These are the more primary features of the mental life as 
a knowing or cognitive affair, sensations being the elemen- 
tal factors out of which perceptions of the external world 
seem to be made. The remaining features of our cognitive 
or knowing experience — memory, imagination, conception, 
judgment, and reasoning — will be seen to be developed 
out of the more primary forms, — sensation and sense-per- 
ception. Before going on, however, with the account of the 
higher development of the knowing experience, it will be 
well to inquire into the nature of the more primary features 
of another phase of mental experience, namely, that of feel- 
ing. In doing so reference will be made to such experiences 
as memory and thinking, but only in their ordinary use. 

The feeling part of mental experience is very important 
and very prominent. Our lives would be colorless affairs 
indeed were it not for this life of feeling. Pleasant, unpleas- 
ant, interesting, joyful, sad, such are the words we apply to 
our experiences, and such experiences are full of meaning. 
We have but to mention such terms as pleasures, emotions, 
feelings, joys and sorrows, delights and woes, sentiments 
in connection with the beautiful in nature and art, to have 
suggested to our minds the decided value for us of these 
experiences, and the important part they play in our lives. 

141 



142 AN IKTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

Affection and its attributes. Perhaps the most noticeable 
feature of feehng experiences is that which is at once the 
best description of them, and the most fundamental way 
of classifying them. This feature is that all feelings are 
either pleasant or unpleasant, or, in other words, agreeable 
or disagreeable. To refer to pleasantness and unpleasant- 
ness is to point out a distinct feature of our conscious lives. 
The pleasantness or unpleasantness may be of this experi- 
ence or of that, it may be of greater or less intensity, it 
may last a longer or shorter time, but m any case the 
agreeableness or disagreeableness is there as the unique 
feature of the experience. 

Just as the sensations were referred to as mental ele- 
ments, in a way making up the cognitive experience, — 
perception, — so we may speak of the elements of feeling, 
pleasantness and unpleasantness. As these elements show 
how we are consciously affected by an experience, they are 
called affection elements. Affection, then, is a term denot- 
ing a process on a level with sensation in the matter of 
the structure of mental states. It cannot be resolved into 
anything simpler or more elemental. 

There are, then, two sorts or qualities of affection, namely, 
pleasantness and unpleasantness. This number — two — 
stands in decided contrast to the vast number of sensation 
elements. For all that, as we shall see, the life of feeling 
is in no way a poor or monotonous affair. This is due, 
of course, to the important part played by these two ele- 
ments in the great variety of mental experiences. 

In addition to this attribute of quality, affection has the 
further attributes of intensity and duration. Nothing is 
more apparent about pleasantness and unpleasantness than 
the fact that feeling experiences are more or less intense 
in degree of affection. Slightly pleasant, very agreeable, 



THE SIMPLE AFFECTIVE PKOCESSES 143 

extremely disagreeable, — these terms indicate different de- 
grees of feeling tone. Whether the pleasantness or the un- 
pleasantness of an experience lasts for a longer or a shorter 
time is a well marked and important feature of all feeling 
experiences. 

We have noticed, then, that affection is a simple element 
of mental life, that it has the attributes of quality, intensity, 
and duration, and that the affection qualities are two in 
number, namely, pleasantness and unpleasantness. 

Sensation and affection. There is, of course, the closest 
connection between sensations, perceptions, and other cog- 
nitive processes on the one hand, and their pleasantness 
and unpleasantness on the other. It is just these sensations, 
perceptions, memories, etc., which are pleasant or unpleas- 
ant. We speak of a pleasant taste, a sad spectacle, a sweet 
memory, an interesting line of thought, a delightful jour- 
ney, and so on. 

Sensations, too, are like affection processes in that both 
are elemental features of the conscious life. It may serve, 
however, to bring out somewhat the nature of these affec- 
tion elements if a few points of contrast between them and 
sensations are shown. 

1. It is possible, though indeed very unusual, for a sen- 
sation to be attended to and experienced by itself. This 
could never happen in the case of affection, just because 
by its very nature pleasantness or unpleasantness must be 
the pleasantness or unpleasantness of something. It is only 
theoretically, then, that we can speak of affection as being 
a mental element, as it cannot be experienced by itself, 
and is merely the affective toning of a complex mental 
experience. 

2. Sensations are localized by us with reference to the 
place of the stimulus, for example, colors of objects, 



144 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

pressures at different parts of the body. Affection, on the 
other hand, is simply hved, is not referred to any place, 
but is experienced by the self as a coloring or toning of the 
whole mental state as a general condition of the soul. 

3. Affection is much more personal or subjective than 
sensation. Pleasantness and unpleasantness seem to be 
decidedly our private affairs. Of course sensations are just 
as much parts of one's conscious states as is affection, but 
colors, smells, tastes, tones, and other sensations are, after 
all, rather common property under conditions similar to all. 
They may be lived by all who are present, and, as we have 
seen, they are used by all to make up perceptions of the ex- 
ternal world. The pleasantness of any experience is pecul- 
iarly one's own. It may be referred to certain conditions, 
and a similar affective toning may be in others' minds as 
well as in one's own, and may m so far be common or objec- 
tive ; but even so it is, in the main, a decidedly subjective 
affair, a personal experience, having an intimacy with one's 
self and an exclusiveness which sensations do not possess. 

In contrasting affection with sensation, then, it may be 
said : (1) that while it is possible for sensations to be at- 
tended to by themselves, affection cannot be ; (2) that we 
tend to localize sensations with respect to their source, 
while affection is a more general affair belonging to the 
whole conscious process at the time ; and (3) that there is 
an intimate, personal, subjective character about pleasant- 
ness and unpleasantness, while by contrast sensations are 
more impersonal, common to all, objective. 

Definition. We may now safely attempt a definition of 
affection. In fact, in explaining the use of the term " affec- 
tion," a definition was practically given. It was then stated 
that the feeling features of consciousness, pleasantness 
and unpleasantness, show how we are consciously affected 



THE SIMPLE AFFECTIVE PEOCESSES 145 

by an experience. In the light of the foregoing discussion 
we may make the following statement: Affection is that 
elemental part of a state of consciousness which shows how 
we personally take the reception by the organism of its 
impressions ; or again, affection is the simple feeling tone 
of any experience. The meaning of these definitions will 
be brought out further when we consider the physiological 
basis of pleasantness and unpleasantness. 

The various stimuli or impressions which play upon the 
end organs of the bodily system are recorded in conscious- 
ness as sensations in so far as they are especial stimulations 
of this or that part of the organism. But these impressions 
are not only noticed and acted on, they are in a way valued, 
according to their general effect on the organism. This 
general effect may be beneficial, it may be harmful, or it 
may be indifferent. By beneficial is meant the preserving 
and furthering the life of the organism ; by harmful, the 
reverse of this. The individual stimulations are reported 
in consciousness as the various sensations, but this general 
harming or benefiting the organism is, as a general thing, 
reported in consciousness as pleasantness or unpleasant- 
ness. Affection seems to be the conscious way in which the 
whole nervous system responds to the stimulus. Sensation 
is the report in consciousness of the impression on the 
sense organ and on certain specific brain areas. When the 
stimulus is indifferent so far as the welfare of the organism 
is concerned, no affective report is made or needed. As a 
general statement, too, it may be added that the degree of 
pleasantness and unpleasantness is a measure of the bene- 
fit or injury received by the organism from its impressions. 
To these statements, however, many qualifications should 
be made. Some experiences may be temporarily exhilarat- 
ing, but attended with undesirable consequences. Habit 



146 AN INTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

has its influence ; so illness or any abnormal state of tlie 
organism. These qualifications will be taken into account 
in the discussion in the remainder of the chapter. 

Affection, feeling, and affectively toned idea. As was said 
above, we never experience an affection, that is, a pleasant- 
ness or an unpleasantness, by itself. The affective experi- 
ence as actually lived may be given the familiar name 
"feelmg." Thus any sensation, perception, memory, etc., 
which is so agreeable or disagreeable that the affective part 
of the experience seems to be its chief feature, is called 
a feeling. When the affective part of the experience is of 
less prominence, we call the mental state an affectively 
toned sensation, idea, etc. No hard and fast line can be 
drawn between the two, however, and our further discus- 
sion of feeling will apply to the affectively toned experi- 
ences as well. 

Classification of feelings. The fundamental classification 
of feelmgs is, as has already been intimated, into pleasant 
and unpleasant. While this fundamental classification 
should be kept in mind, there are other classifications 
which are of use in understanding the nature of the feeling 
life. One of these classifications is that mto sense feelings 
and ideational feelings. Sense feelings are sometimes called 
physical or bodily feelings, or even the lower feelings, 
though such a term is hardly in place in psychology. Idea- 
tional feelings are sometimes called mental or intellectual 
feelings, or even the higher feelings. These various names 
and their associations need not lead one astray. Sense 
feelings are those which are composed largely of sensation 
processes and strong pleasantness or unpleasantness, and 
which are the result of stimulation of the sense organs. 
These feelings may arise in connection with taste, smell, 
sight, hearing, touch, and the various organic sensations. 



THE SIMPLE AFFECTIVE PROCESSES 147 

They are called physical or bodily feelings on account of 
their source, but it should be remembered that our expe- 
rience of them is a part of the stream of consciousness, and 
in this way they are just as mental as any other experi- 
ence we may have. It is very seldom that purely sense 
feelings are experienced. The sensation becomes in most 
cases complicated and fused with various associations, mem- 
ories, imaginings, etc., so that the feeling experience becomes 
quite complex. They may properly be called sense feelings, 
however, as the actual stimulation of the sense organs 
concerned is probably most responsible for the deep agree- 
ableness or disagreeableness of the experience. 

There is no sharp line of division between the sense 
feelings and the ideational feelings. Ideational feelings are 
those composed of idea processes, memories, imaginings, 
etc., and strong pleasantness or unpleasantness. These 
ideational feelings may go on in experience without admix- 
ture of sensation, but frequently this is not the case. How- 
ever, they are still properly called ideational feelings when 
the chief part of that which is deeply pleasant or unpleas- 
ant is a flow of ideas in the stream of consciousness. It is 
difficult, very frequently, to classify those feelings aroused 
by perceptions of objects. In the mental process at the 
time there is much of sensation, much of memory and of 
association, much of suggestion, entering into the percep- 
tion of the objects. Of course in some of these experiences 
the senses are mostly appealed to, and in others the intellect. 
Where this is marked, we are able to make the classifica- 
tion without much difficulty. The division into sense feel- 
ings and ideational feelings is not a sharp affair, but must 
be thought of as roughly marking off two parts of our con- 
scious experience of the feeling sort according to the pro- 
portion of sensations or ideas involved. 



148 AN mTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

Another classification may be made into simple feel- 
ings and complex ones. We shall reserve for discussion in 
a later chapter those complex features of the feeling life 
which are called emotions and sentiments. In this chapter 
we are dealing principally with the simple feelings. The 
complex feelings, emotion and sentiment, might, of course, 
be discussed in this chapter in connection with the distinc- 
tion between sense feelmgs and ideational feelmgs. Very 
few experiences of the emotion sort, or mdeed of the senti- 
ment or higher emotion sort, are purely feelings of either 
sense or of ideas exclusively, though the emotion we shall 
find to be made largely of sense material, and the senti- 
ments of ideational feelmg. 

There is no need for making further classification among 
the feelings. All feelings are in the first place either pleas- 
ant or unpleasant. An experience that is neither pleasant 
nor unpleasant is not a feeling ; nor can any feeling be 
both pleasant and unpleasant. The conscious way m which 
we are affected by an experience is either pleasant or 
unpleasant, or neither. Now, no matter what is the basis 
of feelmgs, whether they are sense feelings or ideational, 
whether they are comparatively simple or complex after 
the fashion of emotions and sentiments, the pleasantness or 
the unpleasantness, differing in mtensity and in duration, 
does not differ m quality. The agreeableness or disagree- 
ableness of the ideational feelings — memory, iinagmation, 
etc. — is of the same affective, elemental sort as that of the 
sense feelings, — smellmg, tastmg, etc. The difference be- 
tween the experiences is not m their affective quality but 
in that which is pleasant or unpleasant. 

Conditions of affective quality in feeling experiences. 
The normal life of the organism, mind and body, is an 
active affair. It receives stimulations, obtains nourisliment. 



THE SIMPLE AFFECTIVE PEOCESSES 149 

understands its environment more or less well, and reacts 
upon that environment according to its instinctive, impulsive, 
and habitual tendencies more or less intelligently. What 
features of this experience are pleasant and agreeable, and 
what the reverse ? Or, to put the matter m another way, 
what are the general conditions of pleasantness and the 
reverse in this process of livmg ? 

It is not possible to answer this question with absolute 
precision, but some general features and conditions may be 
pomted out. Those activities of mind and body which are 
the routine, habitual sort have little feelmg connected with 
them. We meet our daily companions, perform our daily 
tasks, notice in a meager way the customary buildings and 
landscape, with little of pleasantness or of unpleasantness. 
Deprive us of any of these things, and the results might be 
disagreeable. A change might m many instances be agree- 
able. But in general we may say that the more habitual 
our daily experiences, the less of feelmg life, agreeable or 
the reverse, there will be. Our attention is somewhat 
limited and perfunctory, stimulations and responses are 
dull and commonplace, and, m so far, our consciousness 
tends to be very neutral with respect to feeling. 

Those sense stimulations and those physical activities 
which are beneficial to the normal, receptive, wide-awake, 
active organism are, as a rule, pleasant. On the other hand, 
those experiences which are harmful are usually unpleasant. 
In the matter of tastes and smells, for example, we like 
those which are good for us, and dislike those which will 
injure. Again, closely connected with this, it ijiay be said 
that stimulations and active exercise which are of moder- 
ate intensity are usually agreeable, while excess in stimula- 
tion or exercise is both harmful and unpleasant. Lights 
that are too mtense, sounds too loud and shrill, physical 



150 AN INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

exertion that strains, overindulgence or overdoing of any 
sort, are both injurious and unpleasant. Of course injuries, 
cuts, bruises, and unhealthy conditions of the body gener- 
ally are unpleasant as well as harmful. Another point 
closely connected with what we have been saying is that 
undue stimulation of the nerves results in unpleasantness, 
while stimulation of the nerves in a normal way, and 
effective, well-adapted nervous and muscular response are, 
on the whole, agreeable. 

It would seem that m our ordinary experience there are 
exceptions to this general principle of the agreement be- 
tween the pleasant and the beneficial, the harmful and 
the unpleasant. The bitter medicine may be unpleasant 
and still be beneficial. The organism, however, must re- 
spond in practically all cases in the way that is usually 
right. The bitter medicine, in so far as it affects the taste, 
is of course unpleasant, and the natural result of tasting 
and eating that kind of food would certainly be harmful. 
A poor eating practice that would be. But when the bene- 
ficial effects of the medicine begin to appear, the normal 
bodily processes are encouraged, and the result then in 
consciousness is agreeable. We feel better. This seeming 
exception thus bears out the general rule. Take another 
case of the relation of affection to taste sensations. The 
food may continue to be delicious and very agreeable, even 
after one has eaten too much. This harmful overeating 
may be pleasant. A little closer view will, however, show 
that this exception to the rule is seeming rather than real. 
To eat thqjb kind of food is generally both agreeable and 
beneficial. So far the agreeableness is a good guide. Again, 
when the harm of the overeating begins to be realized it 
can hardly be said to be pleasant, as many a small boy can 
testify. The harm and the unpleasantness keep pace, and the 



THE SIMPLE AFFECTIVE PROCESSES 151 

general principle seems to apply even to this case. These 
two examples, and many others in connection with other 
forms of sense stimulation which might be cited, go to show 
that while there is a general, if not universal, coincidence 
between the harmful and unpleasant on the one side, and 
the beneficial and pleasant on the other, yet as practical 
guides the feelings are not altogether to be relied on. The 
qualification necessary is that the organism must profit 
by the results of experience and modify the prompting of 
feeling accordingly. Memory and judgment must be used, 
or m more forcible, if not more classic language, we must 
use our heads in such matters if the best results would be 
achieved. And this is not strange when we consider 
that this is what brain and ideas seemingly have been 
developed for. 

We may say then that those conditions, stimulations, 
and activities which are beneficial to the organism ; those 
which are of moderate intensity ; healthy, normal condi- 
tions of the organism ; and moderate and efficient nerve 
processes, are on the whole agreeable. On the other hand, 
stimulations and activities which are harmful; those which 
are excessive ; abnormal, diseased conditions, and injuries ; 
and excessive calls upon nerve tissue and ill adaptation of 
motor response, are decidedly unpleasant. 

In connection with the normal, beneficial activities of the 
organism, which as a rule are pleasant, attention should 
be called to one feature of this normal, natural life which 
was spoken of in Chapter IV. There it was pointed out 
that there are certain instinctive and impulsive tendencies, 
appetites and desires, which largely determine our life of 
action. Here we may say that the free exercise and grati- 
fication of these tendencies is decidedly agreeable, while 
the result in consciousness is unpleasant when they are 



152 AN INTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

restrained, balked, or not called into normal exercise. For 
the greatest amount of satisfaction and agreeableness in 
connection with these natural tendencies much exercise of 
thought and will is necessary. Their haphazard and reck- 
less exercise will in many cases exhaust and harm the 
organism, and result unpleasantly. But they are the normal 
tendencies of the organism, and proper exercise and grati- 
fication is a great source of agreeableness. Interference 
with them, and inhibition of them, undue and reckless use 
of them, will be both unpleasant and harmful. Hunger, 
love, play, sociability, emulation, and all such native tend- 
encies may be thought of here to suggest how much of 
our feeling experience, both of the pleasant and unpleasant 
sort, is utterly dependent on the use in life that is made of 
these mstincts and their satisfaction. To the general condi- 
tions of pleasantness and unpleasantness summed up in the 
last paragraph we must add this feature, of being in line 
with our mstinctive tendencies, as decidedly conducive to 
pleasure, and that of being contrary to these tendencies as 
productive of unpleasant experience. 

With respect to our so-called ideational feelings we 
may find a general principle which is very like these condi- 
tions of sense feelings. Barring our more routine, habitual 
thoughts and volitions, we find pleasure in our mental 
processes that work well. It is agreeable to perceive, un- 
derstand, remember, imagine, and reason quickly, freely, 
and accurately. To solve our problems correctly, to plan 
and execute clever and profitable adjustments to situations, 
to remember exactly how the affair happened, to recognize 
acquaintances and call them by name, — all these are agree- 
able in their measure. To have our memories poor and inac- 
curate, to have the mind a blank when we would imagine, to 
be unable to recognize and understand the nature of objects 



THE SIMPLE AFFECTIVE PROCESSES 153 

in our environment, to be baffled in the solution of problems, 
to reason faultily, to be unable to adjust ourselves to new 
situations and act cleverly therein, — all these are distinctly 
disagreeable. 

With respect to the mental feelings, then, we may say 
that the free and full, exact and effective flow of ideas in 
connection with our normal thinking processes is agreeable ; 
while a poor, impeded, and meager process of ideas is un- 
pleasant. 

The place of pleasantness and unpleasantness in the so- 
called higher mental or ideational processes may perhaps 
best be illustrated by taking the case of memory. What 
memories are pleasant and what unpleasant ? As has al- 
ready been mdicated, when the memory does not seem to 
work well, when the ideas and the recognition will not 
come, the result is disagreeable. On the other hand, when 
the memory works perfectly, the process is in so far satis- 
factory. But, of course, whether memories are pleasant or 
not will depend mostly on what they are memories of. 
Probably in the majority of cases when an experience has 
been pleasant in first exercise, it will be pleasant when 
recalled ; that is to say, although the old pleasantness 
does not come up again, the present living it over again 
in memory is agreeable. This will not be so, however, if 
our plans, desires, interests, and ideals have undergone 
much change, so that the memory in question will bring 
up conduct or circumstances which now we do not think 
much of, or which we strongly disapprove, or regret, or 
wish different. That which was once agreeable may now in 
memory be unpleasant ; while on the other hand, many acts 
and circumstances, unpleasant when experienced, may now 
in memory be gladly welcomed. Accordmg as to whether 
or not the memory fits in with our present normal mental 



154 AN INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

processes in the shape of plans, purposes, and mterests, 
will it be welcome or the reverse. The same may be said 
of our imaginations and our reasonings, and in the next 
paragraph some reason for this dependence of the feeling 
tone of the ideational processes on the interests of the in- 
dividual will be brought out. 

It is not only in connection with the sense feelings that 
instinctive tendencies determine the matter of pleasure and 
the reverse ; purely ideational processes may be in line 
with these instincts or may be averse to them. These proc- 
esses may mean as much for the general welfare of the 
whole life of the organism as sensations and bodily activi- 
ties. In other words, we have deep-set interests which con- 
cern the general life of the individual. Memories, plans 
(family, individual, or social), imaginings along those lines 
which are prompted by artistic construction, study and 
reasoning prompted by the deep-set instinct of curiosity 
or search for the truth, — all such ideational processes are 
prompted by our deep-set instmcts, and are our mterests. 
This term " interest " is one which will be considerably 
used in the next chapter, and indeed throughout the 
whole book. In this connection we may say that it is a 
term which stands for that condition of mind where there 
are active mental processes going on freely and fully in 
connection with the natural tendencies of the organism, 
mental and physical, and which are more or less agreeably 
toned. Interest is thus a term which has a decided feel- 
ing significance. Its decided agreeableness shows that it 
is a condition which means much for general mental and 
organic progress" and welfare. 

In addition, then, to the conditions of ideational feeling 
above mentioned, it must be stated that the greatest degree 
of agreeableness in mental feeling is obtained from the free 



THE SIMPLE AFFECTIVE PEOCESSES 155 

and effective flow of ideas, when these ideas are in the serv- 
ice of deep-set instinctive tendencies and desires, that is, of 
our interests ; while the poor, impeded, and meager proc- 
ess is all the more unpleasant when concerned with our 
mterests. 

Perhaps we may sum up the most general conditions of 
pleasantness and unpleasantness, both physical and mental, 
that is of the whole person, in some such way as this : 
Whatever makes for the healthy continuance and progress 
of our whole life, mental and physical, along the lines of its 
natural development and interests, is, except for the more 
habitual thoughts and movements, pleasant ; whatever in- 
terferes with, or retards, this natural healthy continuance 
and progress is unpleasant. 

The practical and educational significance of the life of 
feeling will be dealt with later in two connections : first, 
m the next chapter, on attention and interest ; and second, 
at greater length, in the chapter on emotion and sentiment, 
where some suggestions will be made as to the culture of 
the feeling life, both as means and as end to be accomplished. 

REFERENCES 

TiTCHENER. An Outline of Psychology, Chapter V and Section 56. 
RoYCE. Outlines of Psychology, Chapter VII. 
Angell. Psychology, Chapters XIII and XIV. 



CHAPTER VIII 
THE I^ATURE OF ATTENTION AND INTEREST 

In Chapter II, when describmg the general features of 
consciousness, it was noticed that one of these features, 
and a very marked one, was the presence in all states of 
consciousness of varying degrees of attention and interest. 
It was there pointed out that there are degrees of con- 
sciousness, our mental states being more or less intense 
according to our interest and amount of attention. To re- 
peat a statement then made, " an idea may be right in 
the focus or light of consciousness, or it may occupy a 
position away from the focus, until we have no interest in 
it whatever, pay not the slightest attention to it, and it 
leaves even the fringe of consciousness and disappears al- 
together." In later chapters we have constantly used the 
terms " attention " and " interest, " especially in treating of 
sense-perception. Attention as a topic in psychology is dif- 
erent from such mental processes as perception, memory, etc. 
We can speak of a perception and a memory, but not of 
an attention. The word " attention," or " attentiveness," 
expresses a phase of consciousness which belongs in greater 
or less degree to all these other mental facts or processes. 
Each memory, for mstance, may be attended to more or less. 
"Attention " is, then, a name for a general mental activity 
more or less present in all conscious states. It belongs to 
no one mental product in particular, but to each one in 
its turn, when the mind is centered upon any one of the 
parts of the mental stream. We have already found the 

156 



NATUEE OF ATTENTION AND INTEREST 157 



activity of the attention to be one of the most conspicuous 
and most important features of our mental hfe ; it is now 
time to inquire more intimately as to its nature and (along 
with it) the nature of interest. 

Some light may be thrown upon the nature of attention 
and the degrees of consciousness by means of a diagram 
used by Baldwin in his " Elements of Psychology," page 58. 

In the figure the ,. ^_^ 

focus of attention y^'^ ^ "\ 

where consciousness 
is most bright and 
intense is area 5, 
the bull's-eye. The / 
area next, 4, is ; 
consciousness some- 1 
what bright and \ 
active, but not so 
much so as area 5. 
Area 3 represents a 
vague, fading con- 
sciousness, a condi- 
tion of inattention, 
decidedly in the 
frmge of consciousness. Area 2 represents an entire ab- 
sence of attention, and includes all so-called subconscious 
states. Area 1 represents the unconscious, nervous activity 
of the organism. 

I may be thinking of a day's outing. The rowing of the 
boat may be for the moment the focus of my attention, 
area 5. The other features of the holiday closely con- 
nected with this may be enough in mind to belong to 
area 4, the beginning of the fringe, however. Vague re- 
membrances and feelmgs of other outings, or thoughts 




Fig. 15. Diagram illustrating degrees of 
consciousness 



158 A-N INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

haK lingering on the work to be left, may occupy area 3, 
being decidedly in the fringe. There may be a slight sub- 
conscious irritation, owing to some disappointment or 
bodily disturbance, area 2. Area 1 is altogether outside 
my conscious experience, notwithstanding its physical im- 
portance. These attempts at illustration may be of help 
to some in understanding the fact of degrees of conscious- 
ness, and of very little help to others ; in either case it is 
time to pass to more formal description. 

Degrees of attention. It is a fact of ordinary experience 
that the attention is of different degrees. I may be attend- 
ing to something in a very absorbed way, or may give httle 
attention to it. Even the focus of attention at one time 
and at another may differ ui brilliancy. It may be with 
great effort or it may be with the utmost ease that I become 
absorbed m a topic. The degree of attention in the two 
cases may be the same. Here undoubtedly the nerve centers 
are most active. On other occasions one's best attention 
may be a comparatively poor affair. When the mind is 
most active and consciousness most intense and alert, atten- 
tion is at its height. In truth, these statements are but differ- 
ent ways of speaking of the same fact. Our best attention, 
may differ at different times. At any one tune, in any one 
state of consciousness, there are different degrees of con- 
sciousness and attention. These are facts of everyday ex- 
perience and observation and need no further description 
to make them better known. 

Attention to a conscious state, perception, memory, etc. 
makes that state clearer and better defined. It is conscious- 
ness at its best. The fact of this clearness and definiteness 
in contrast with the outlying obscure and vague portions 
of a conscious field, the fringe as it has been called, is the 
fact of attention. Any mental state thus made up may be 



NATURE OF ATTENTION AND INTEREST 159 

called a state of attention. Whether we thmk of this con- 
dition of affairs as attention, or whether we think of the 
stream of consciousness as flowing, or the mind as acting, 
so as to produce this state, in either case we are describing 
attention, giving in this way a double definition of what in 
experience is not divisible except in this abstract way. 

Varieties of attention. In attempting to classify the forms 
or varieties of attention we must make a distinction be- 
tween the result of the act of attention and the ways of 
getting the attention concentrated. The varieties of atten- 
tion differ rather in the ways of getting the attention con- 
centrated or focused than in the fact itself of having the 
attention focused or concentrated. 

Keeping this distinction in mind, we may speak of the 
first variety of attention to which the name "voluntary 
attention " is given. Voluntai^y attention is attention with 
effort. Effort is its distinguishing mark. To attend to a 
distasteful task when joyous, interestmg things are at hand 
which might be engaged in, requires considerable effort. 
It is a real strain to keep at work when one wishes to be 
at something else. The experience of effort arises because 
of the conflicting claims upon the attention, and is the con- 
sciousness of the conflict. And if we ask why one should 
ever thus exert effort to attend to anything, why undergo 
the strain, and voluntarily keep one's attention on the 
hard and perhaps disagreeable things when more alluring 
tilings are callmg, the answer must be given in terms of 
adjustment of our lives, thoughts, and actions to life's 
conditions. The voluntary attention is not given to any- 
thing for the sake of that thing itseff. We take up the hard, 
disagreeable task not for its own sake. Attention with 
effort is given to a thing because of some relation between it 
and something else which we really want to have, or be, 



160 AN mTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

or do ; in other words, something which is of vital concern, 
interest, and importance for us. We make the effort and 
undergo the strain because the matter in hand is a means to 
some further desired result. For some further end or pur- 
pose, more or less definitely m view, do we make the effort. 
This makmg of effort has always been regarded as one of 
the most splendid capacities of the human mind. It is cer- 
tainly not the path of least resistance. It is the mark of 
strong character. It is found wherever the unique and 
unmistakable experience called effort is required, and where 
it is exercised to give the inind wholly to the business in 
hand. Voluntary attention, then, is a distinct variety of 
the ways by which the mind is concentrated. Its keyword 
is effort. 

Spontaneous attention, the next variety, is that marked 
by interest rather than effort. It seems comparatively easy, 
while voluntary attention is difficult. To give one's self 
up freely to doing the things one loves to do, is spontaneous 
attention. It is immediately, freely, whole-heartedly given. 
The object attended to is of intrinsic worth or interest to 
the person, and the mind goes right out to it, — is absorbed 
in it. We give ourselves up to the game, or to a hobby, 
or to an interesting book, or study, or physical exertion, or 
play, for the sake of the activity itself, and the enjoyment. 
Its keyword is interest. 

Another variety of attention may be called forced atten- 
tion. This is given rather agamst our will, and we cannot 
help ourselves. Its kej^word is assault. Loud sounds, insist- 
ent odors, bright lights, or any other unusually strong sen- 
sation, which some stimuli from our envnonment force 
upon us, may be thought of as illustratmg tliis variety of 
attention. One cannot help hearing the thunderclap, or 
seeing the lightning, or feeling the blow. 



NATURE OF ATTENTION AND INTEREST 161 

The attention may then be concentrated by means of 
effort, the vohmtary sort ; or by interest in the object, the 
spontaneous sort; or by having our senses assaulted by 
a strong stimulus, the forced variety. Voluntary attention 
is marked by effort of will, while the other two varieties 
are not so marked and are often called involuntary. Vol- 
untary attention is sometimes called active, and these other 
two passive, but these terms are rather misleading, for the 
mind may be even more active, in the sense of bemg more 
alert or wide-awake, in attention of the spontaneous variety 
than in attention with eff'ort. In our further discussions 
certain distinctions and relations between voluntary and 
spontaneous attention will be spoken of, while we shall 
practically neglect to take any further notice of the third 
variety, as its importance for mental development is slight. 

The result of the act of attention, the attention state 
itself, — the fact of consciousness being focused and our 
being engrossed in something, — is not really of tliree kinds, 
or even two, but, one. It is true that the state of mind 
called attention may contain the strain of effort or the joy 
of interest, but the clearness and definiteness of the mental 
state is the important fact after all. This is the state of 
attention, and this fundamental fact should be remembered 
even when the different varieties are spoken of and their 
uses and interrelations made apparent. 

The duration or holding of the attention. It is one thing 
to catch any one's attention, it is another thing to hold it. 
Attention seems to be ever shifting, now absorbed in one 
topic, now in another ; yet as we know, m order to accom- 
plish any mental work we must keep our attention fixed, 
our minds concentrated upon the topic under consideration. 
It will be in order, then, to inquire as to the duration of 
the attention and the conditions of desirable concentration. 



162 A-N INTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

One can read a book, play a game, watch a play, work on 
a puzzle, and even study Latin or geometry for hours at a 
time. In this sense one matter can occupy one's attention 
indefinitely. Yet on closer view in any one of these examples 
the attention is all the while changing. The matters thus 
attended to are complex. Each moment there is somethmg 
new. We have here the paradox that the attention can be 
held on a topic for an indefinite time, provided it is all the 
while shifting. To attend continuously to an object there 
must be a change in the ideas immediately in the focus of 
consciousness. We here notice the natural behavior of the 
attention. We attend to any subject just so long as new 
features are seen in it which can claim our attention. The 
attention is concentrated not when the mind is fixed for 
a long time upon one idea (that, as we shall see, is an 
impossibility), but when new ideas, features, qualities, 
and occurrences, m connection with the general topic 
of our thought and attention, all the while appear to 
take the attention — the bright focus of attention — to 
themselves. 

Experiment has shown that this focusing of conscious- 
ness or pulse of attention can last but a few seconds upon 
one idea. Its duration will differ under different conditions, 
but m any case it is momentary and then lapses. After a 
pause the same idea may be attended to again, or its place 
may be taken by another. This shifting of attention seems 
to be due to the wearying of the brain cells concerned. To 
have the attention strongly concentrated on one idea means 
physically, or as a matter of brain action, intense activity 
or shifting of nervous tension on the part of certain corti- 
cal neurones. These load and discharge, so to speak, and 
the nervous impulse moves on, or, it may be, momentarily 
returns. 



NATUEE OF ATTENTION AND INTEREST 163 

It frequently happens, when the attention is directed 
with effort to the consideration of a topic or to performing 
a piece of work, that the voluntary attention gives way to 
that of the spontaneous kind. In fact, if the attention is 
given to such a mental content for a great length of time, 
it is usually a case of an interest bemg developed in that 
wliich at first called for effort. The constant strain of vol- 
untary attention with great effort is very wearymg, there 
being a constant series of efforts m jerking up the attention 
to the matter in hand. Voluntary attention is usually nec- 
essary m tacklmg new problems and in setting one's self 
to old ones as well ; but when the new problem or old task 
is really seen in its true relation to the ends we are trying 
to accomplish, when the task itself becomes a part of that 
end, — then there comes an mterest in the task itself, con- 
flicting interests disappear from consciousness, we pursue 
it whole-heartedly, our attention is spontaneously given up 
to its changing features, and the task is performed, the end 
realized, the problem perhaps solved. The best working of 
the mind depends largely upon this ability to attack a task 
or problem with the attention of the active, voluntary, even 
stramed sort, and then upon the gradual absorption of the 
mind by its task or problem so that the attention is freely 
given to the matter in hand. 

The problem of an mtellectual or practical sort, repulsive 
or difficult though it may seem at iu'st, frequently discloses 
features of mterest after a time. We find that we like it 
after all ; or we become possessed with the idea that the 
difficult means is so vitally related to the desired end that 
we freely and spontaneously give ourselves right up to its 
performance ; or it may be that we feel challenged to com- 
plete it, and the performance has all the zest of a game. It 
quite frequently happens ui cases where the voluntary 



164 AN INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

attention does not become spontaneous toward the matter in 
hand, that we cease to attend to this thing altogether, and 
other more interesting things come in to claim the attention, 
while the difficult or distasteful task or idea gets crowded 
out of mind. 

The reverse process, too, is of frequent occurrence. For 
one reason or another an interesting or attractive line of 
thought or piece of work, which at first claims our atten- 
tion spontaneously, becomes irksome. We become tired, or 
get enough of it. To keep at it under these circumstances 
requires effort, and the attention, if given, becomes of the 
voluntary sort. There must then be some further purpose 
in view to keep us engaged upon it. If no such purpose 
appears, the attention is given to something else. 

Of course there are cases of attention which are difficult 
to classify as either voluntary or spontaneous exclusively. 
Both interest and effort seem to be present in some degree. 
At the stages when we are passing from one sort of atten- 
tion to another, we seem to be attending in a measure, both 
spontaneously and with effort ; and in many conditions of 
thought and action, it would be difficult to tell which is 
uppermost. Of course the vital thing, both for clear think- 
ing and intelligent action, is the presence of attention, 
whether it be a clear case of effort, or a clear case of inter- 
est, or somewhere between the two. 

The range of attention. Can a person attend to more than 
one thing at a time ? This question is frequently asked, and 
there is no absolute agreement among psychologists as to 
its answer. The more habitual certain actions become, the 
greater the number of such actions which can be performed 
at the same time. It cannot be said, however, that we are 
attending to them all at once. We do them without giv- 
ing them our attention. The attention is likely to change 



NATUEE OF ATTENTION AND INTEREST 165 

quickly from one object to another, and back again, in try- 
ing to attend to more than one thing at a time, so that it 
seems as though it were given to both at once, though it 
is not. Again, if more than one thing is presented to the 
mind at the same time, the tendency .is to make the various 
items in the case into a unit. Thus we attend to the items 
not as items but as a whole, of which they are the parts. 
If the items attended to are not of the simplest sort, say 
two or three lines on the blackboard, it may be safely said 
that we can attend to but one at a time. It is not clear, 
however, that we cannot attend to four or five such lines, 
as separate lines, and to even a greater number of separate 
tones. Some psychologists hold that this can be done, while 
others explain it away by saying that either there is a rapid 
vacillation of the attention, or else the separate items are 
made into a unitary group. As the most of the things to 
which we attend are not of this simple nature, and as there 
is much doubt about our being able to attend to more than 
one simple impression at a time, the safer principle to work 
on is that we give our attention in a clear, full way to but 
one thing at a time. 

As we saw, however, in discussing the duration of atten- 
tion, any separate item of experience to which we attend 
cannot remain long in consciousness. We may have one 
general plan, problem, or entertainment before us, and 
may be said to attend to that hour by hour ; but the at- 
tention, while occasionally given to the problem as a whole, 
is all the while making excursions now to this, now to that. 
Here we might say that the problem is the general ob- 
ject of the attention, while the particular objects of the 
attention moment by moment will be the various features 
or aspects of the problem as they present themselves for 
consideration. 



166 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

The attention as analysis or discrimination. From the 
earliest experiences of the child, the muid iii attending is 
picking things to pieces, is noticing the separate items going 
to make up the whole experience. The attention is given 
now to this impression, now to that. In this way, as we 
have already seen, out of first vague impressions of objects 
come our separate sensations by this analytic or discrimi- 
nating work of the attention. When we examine anything 
new to us, — a new flower, or a new machine, — or even 
when we attend to anything well known, the attention nat- 
urally is given to the different parts of the whole, one at a 
time. This seems to be one of the most important features 
of the work of attention. It is analyzing, picking out, dis- 
criminating all the while. On this, knowledge depends for 
its development. Without it perception, comparison, and 
judgment would not be possible. It is one of the main 
roots of the growth of knowledge. 

The attention as synthesis or association. All the while 
that this analytic activity of the attention is in progress 
there is going on a synthesis or grouping together of the 
parts. The parts are noticed not merely for what they are 
in and of themselves, — for example, the different quali- 
ties of the flower or the different parts of the machine, — 
but they are thought of as belongmg together, as related 
to the whole. This process is constantly gomg on,, as we 
have seen, in the making of perception, and on this syn- 
thetic process all knowledge depends as its other great root 
of growth. The different impressions obtamed from an ob- 
ject are not only noticed singly, but become more or less 
firmly fused or associated. As was pointed out in discussmg 
the range of attention, the different items of any experience 
are thought of as parts of the whole experience, and the 
experience is really made a unit for us by this synthetic. 



NATURE OF ATTENTION AND INTEREST 167 

associative play of tlie attention. The general mental activ- 
ity of association is of such far-reachmg importance that a 
chapter will be given to its consideration. 

Relation of attention to interest. Interest stands in the 
closest relation to attention on the one hand, and to pleas- 
urable feeling on the other. To be interested is to attend, 
and it is to be pleased in the attending. To be interested 
in anythmg, work or play, is to be giving one's self up to 
it ; that is, it receives one's spontaneous attention, Real 
interest is not a listless affair. When one has real interest 
the mind is mtensely active, — engaged in some enterprise 
of play or work, — and at such times is accomplishing the 
most it is capable of. When one is spontaneously, whole- 
heartedly attendmg to anything, one is mterestecl m it. In- 
terest may be said to be the feeling that goes along with 
the spontaneous activity of attention ; or better, the whole 
process, the attention together with the ideas and feelings 
concerned, is one's mterest. 

Interest and voluntary attention. We have spoken of 
interest as gomg along with spontaneous attention. Its 
connection with voluntary attention is not so direct. It is 
none the less real, however. Upon our interests our vol- 
untary attention depends. James says, "We never make 
an effort to attend to an object except for the sake of some 
remote interest which the effort will serve." We volunta- 
rily attend to the difficult and perhaps distasteful task if it 
is a means to some end ui which we have an interest. The 
interest in the end is brought back to the means, and the 
once unmteresting means either becomes interesting in 
itself or it has for us a borrowed interest. 
X Genuine interest and pseudo-interest. It frequently hap- 
pens that tasks, in and of themselves uninteresting, are 
said to be made interesting. There are two ways of doing 



168 A'N li^TRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

this, a true way and a way of doubtful value. The latter 
way is the way of sugar coating. The individual, perhaps 
a pupil in school, is enticed by some hope of reward or fear 
of punishment, or excited by some story which has no real 
connection with the matter in hand. In such a case the 
interest is at first, and usually remains, in the sugar coating, 
and no real attention is given or mterest taken in the matter 
which it was sought to have learned or done. The sugar 
coatings, the plausible coaxings, may amuse and please, but 
the interest is superficial. To interest is not the same as to 
please or amuse. 

The true way of makmg a seemingly uninteresting prob- 
lem or task interesting is to show its relation of depend- 
ence, as means to an end, to something which calls forth 
the spontaneous attention ; or to present features of the 
case which may awaken an interest for themselves. This 
may be more difficult than the way of sugar coating, 
but the interest awakened will be genuine interest in the 
thing itself and in its results, and will be more likely to 
be permanent. 

Interest and feeling. To be interested is not merely to be 
pleased. While interest has its feeling side, and while it is 
even closely related to emotion, as we shall see in Chapter 
XIII, its active side must not be lost sight of. We are 
active when genuinely interested, not passive. We delight 
in the work or the game, and take our interest in specific 
objective things. It is not a case of passive feeling, with 
little regard to its source. Those who thmk interest to be of 
little value as an effective mental performance are likely to 
lay the stress on the "feeling" side of the case, even re- 
garding interest as something of the amusing, passive sort. 
The feeling in the case of interest is the feeling of activity 
of the mind, engaged in enterprises of a work or play sort. 



NATURE OF ATTENTION AND INTEREST 169 

When the mind is at rest, is passive, the interest is gone. 
The interest is in the active quest of the mind, and always 
has reference to that of which the mind is in quest for its 
satisfaction. This feehng, however, is decidedly of the 
agreeable sort, as was noticed in the last chapter, in so far 
as the quest is being carried on successfully and the flow 
of ideas is free and effective. The agreeableness departs 
when the progress becomes poor and impeded, and then 
even a decided unpleasantness may ensue. 

Attention and interest are thus present, more or less, in 
all conscious states. They are the conditions and the in- 
dexes of the richest, most alert mental experience, leading 
to fuller knowledge and to better adaptations to one's 
environment. They mark conscious states at their best, 
and are in greatest evidence where the subtlest processes 
of learning and of adjustment to environment — physical, 
intellectual, social, and sesthetic — are going on. 

Educational importance of attention and interest. As at- 
tention and interest are terms descriptive of wide-awake 
activity on the part of the mind, it follows that the pupil 
must be attentive to and interested in the various parts 
of his school work, or that school work will mean nothing 
to him. The teacher's work will be in vain without this m- 
terestecl-attentive state of mind on the part of the pupil. 
Mental alertness is necessary in order that the important 
sense impressions may be selected from the total sense- 
impression mass constantly playing on the mind. The un- 
portant features must be selected if knowledge along desired 
lines is to develop, while a thousand and one impressions 
having no present useful bearing must, as a consequence, be 
ignored. Without this interested-attentive state of mind, 
perceptions and observations will not be full and accurate ; 
the various, features will not be analyzed and compared. 



170 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

and the significant ones given the proper place in observa- 
tion. And not only with respect to sense impressions and 
observation, but also with respect to the further develop- 
ment of knowledge and action, is this interested-attentive 
state of mind all-important. On it, as we shall see, mem- 
ory depends. By it useful associations of ideas are formed, 
and association of ideas with their proper outcome in action. 
The whole thinking process in conception, judgment, and 
reasoning is, in the same manner, utterly dependent for its 
value and very existence upon this wide-awake activity of 
the mind. And, as we shall also see, all our deliberations 
and decisions are simply the working-out of our interests 
and the activity of attention. The importance of lively 
interests, well directed, and of keen, well-sustained atten- 
tion with respect to those matters, in school and out of 
school, which it is desirable to learn and to do, is too evi- 
dent to need further insistence. 

The securing of attention and interest. The great prac- 
tical question is. How can this desirable mental activity be 
secured ? The problem is not, however, as a rule, the dis- 
heartening one of trying to create interest and attention. 
It is rather the problem of directing it. Many a listless boy 
in the geography class has a lively interest in thoughts and 
schemes of his own, as any teacher well knows. 

One tendency in teaching and in self-tuition should be 
guarded against. This has been referred to above in dis- 
cussing pseudo-interest. It is an easy matter for a teacher 
to catch the attention of the pupil, and an easy matter 
for the mind of any one to be attracted. The great trouble 
with the practice of artificially making things interesting 
is that the interest ceases when the allurement palls. The 
subject of importance usually fails to be really opened up 
for the pupil by the catchy device. He is passive in the 



NATURE OF ATTEI^TION AND ^TEEEST 171 

matter, and forms the habit of waiting for the next stimu- 
lation. His mind does not become really alert. The inter- 
est is not genuine, the attention but a flash in the pan. Of 
course it sometimes happens that the " sensational " intro- 
duction may awaken an interest which may be transferred 
to the serious matter ahead. A certam gain may be real- 
ized, too, by having the recreatioii of a harmless entertain- 
ment ; but the gains of the practice are few and far between, 
and the unfortunate results more than probable. The prac- 
tice of relying' on pseudo-interest for pupils and others is 
to be condemned because of its futility. It simply does not, 
in most cases, show itself to be worth while. 

Little can be accomplished m the way of securing atten- 
tion if the physical conditions are distinctly unfavorable. 
The pupil already wearied cannot profitably attend to 
school work, nor can the pupil who is weak with illness or 
suffering from pain. The environment must be suitable. 
Schoolrooms too hot or too cold prevent good work. Bad 
ventilation is a notorious cause of lack of interest and 
attention. Insufficient light or the sun's glare often inter- 
feres. Loud noises outside the room, or made by the high 
voice of the teacher, or the chattering of pupils, will often 
so distract another pupil as to make attention to his work 
impossible. If the physical conditions of the pupil and his 
environment are well considered and good, very frequent 
causes of lack of interest and attention are removed. 

The social environment. The spirit or tone of the school 
is an important consideration in securing attention and in- 
terest. The normal boy likes to " get into the game," as he 
himself says. If the pupil has the sympathy of the teacher 
in his work, the teacher's enthusiasm may be contagious. 
At any rate, if this sympathy and enthusiasm are lackmg, 
.interest may die out, and for good reasons. The pupil is 



172 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

likely in tliis way to respond to the teacher, and even more 
likely to respond to the attitudes and actions of fellow 
pupils. The approval or disapproval of teachers, fellow 
pupils, and parents is a force to be reckoned with, and so 
too are the ambitious impulses of the pupil, — emulation, 
pride, etc. These may often be called on to save the situa- 
tion, and the active attention may be very aggressively given 
by summoning them up. We may say that all these fea- 
tures of the social environment of the pupil have much to 
do with his givmg his attention to his school work and 
allowing himself to take an interest in it. These features 
taken care of, the result is not guaranteed; but in many 
cases the desired results are not realized because these so- 
cial conditions are not made what it is very often in the 
power of a skillful teacher to make them. 

Appropriate work. The pupil cannot be expected to be 
attentively interested in work that he is already very famil- 
iar with. It is monotonous, and his attention will wander 
to more promising fields. So long as new features of the 
familiar subject come up will the interest probably last. 
When they fail to do so, interest flags. No more can the 
pupil be expected to attend to any subject matter that is 
too new. It must mean something for him ; he must find 
something familiar in it, or he has no use for it. Novelty 
in object or in feature must be brought out to catch the 
pupil's attention, but not a novelty which means nothing 
for him, having no connection with his previous notions, 
ideas, feelings, and questionings. Work must be given the 
pupil which is a gradual development for him, in the mat- 
ter of ever presenting new ideas which may be attached to 
the ideas already in his possession. The curriculum should 
be arranged in such a way that it will be a natural devel- 
opment along with the pupil's development. This principle. 



NATUEE OF ATTENTION AND INTEREST 173 

applies not only to the work of the year and the half year, 
but to the work of each clay. This is of course a large and 
difficult problem, but the advantageous employment of at- 
tention and interest largely depends on its proper solution. 
It sometimes happens that in this way curriculum-maker 
and teacher are to blame, rather than the pupil, for the 
latter's lack of interest. 

Concrete rather than abstract material. In order that 
interest and attention may be secured, and that knowledge 
may develop properly, the work must be in great meas- 
ure of a concrete sort. The younger pupils, especially, are 
interested m individual objects and individual deeds and 
saymgs of people. Tliis is> the natural material for them to 
work with, while truths which are more abstract come to 
them slowly and have little attraction for them. The same 
principle holds true in a less degree with older pupils. They 
too are interested in individual people, nations, products, 
physical objects ; but while their interest is in these thmgs, 
they naturally pass from them to the principles underlymg 
their behavior. They are really mterested in these general 
truths, rules, and principles, but only if somehow preceded 
in their experiences by knowledge of the many individual 
cases which naturally call for some explanation. In all 
school work, then, early and late, the interest and atten- 
tion are given first to the concrete individual cases, and pass 
to general truths, rules, and principles only when there is 
some call for them as explanations or summaries of the 
familiar concrete material. 

Change of object of attention. In order that attention 
and mterest may be kept alive, there must be a develop- 
ment or change of ideas m the subject considered. New 
features must appear. It is not enough, however, that the 
attention should thus sliift from one thing to another. Too 



174 AN mTPvODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

much of this is scatterbraineclness, or inabihty to concen- 
trate the mind. It is not always the most wide-awake child, 
whose attention is thus most easily caught, who does the 
best work. There must be some steadiness in the matter. 
This is achieved by noticing the new features of the subject, 
that they may be given their places in an orderly scheme of 
understanding it. This keeping check of the new impres- 
sions, understanding them as parts of the subject in rela- 
tion to one another and the whole subject, is the safeguard 
against mind wandering. When these two features of the 
case, the shifting and the checking back, are going on, the 
attention is doing its best work, and interest is greatest. 
Attention is thus naturally a matter of analysis and 
synthesis. 

Not only is it true that there must be this constant change 
of attention within one subject, but, in order to maintain m- 
terest, the subjects themselves must be frequently changed. 
The lesson periods should not be extended to the point of 
weariness, or natural interest will be killed. 

The awakening of interest. It often seems to be the 
task of the teacher to have to teach lessons that apparently 
have no attraction for the pupil. They are hard and dry, 
and interest and spontaneous attention seem out of the 
question. This difficulty may be partly done away with by 
following suggestions already made. The physical condi- 
tions of pupil and environment should be well looked after, 
and the social environment made stimulating. Appropriate 
work should be given in the various grades, and much 
dry and unprofitable material removed. The subject matter 
should be presented in as concrete a form as possible, and 
a proper orderly change should take place in the presenta- 
tion of the ideas. Yet even when all this is done the task 
may not be accomplished. The pupil still may not respond. 



NATURE OF ATTENTION AND INTEREST 175 

Much may be done in the way of showing the connec- 
tion between the daily task and something which the 
teacher may find to be of real mterest to the pupil. Along 
this line the teacher may work very profitably. The normal 
function of voluntary attention is to exert mental effort 
with respect to ends or purposes desired by the individual. 
The connecting of the daily task with a genuine remote 
interest can, in many cases, be done with little difficulty. 
The geography description, history record, language work, 
nature study, geometry, arithmetic, and all the rest, may 
thus be given a genuine interest which the bare statement 
of facts and principles may lack. This is a most fruitful 
field of work for the teacher. That teacher is the skillful 
. one who can find the pupils' interests and attach the school 
work to them. 

In this matter of wise encouragement of the attention 
the fact should never be lost sight of that the only thing 
which counts, educationally and practically in life, is men- 
tal self-activity. It is the person himself who works out his 
own interests and who makes the effort of voluntary atten- 
tion. This is the effective condition ; and the more the 
individual pupil or man of affairs can take care of the 
whole matter of attention, interest, and their conditions, 
the more desirable will be the results. Both voluntary at- 
tention or effort and spontaneous attention or interest thus 
come normally into action. Attention will be given to any 
item only so long as it is needed for the clear and definite 
realization of that phase of the experience ; but when at- 
tention shifts, it will shift to another and related item of 
the same situation or problem. It must shift, as we have 
seen ; otherwise the mind will be a blank. No wise guide 
will expect the impossible, — to hold more than momen- 
tarily a single item before the mind. The delight of the 



176 AN INTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

normal successful activity of the mind's quest will be pres- 
ent ; but there will be, as well, all that effort of which the 
mind is capable, and without which, in school or out of it, 
genume success is not possible. 

The habit of attention. Gradually, by such methods as 
have been enumerated, may the habit of attention be 
formed. Interest will develop in the regular work of the 
day, and the pupil will attend to and do his work well, 
not because it excites, pleases, or amuses, but because it is 
in line with his natural growth and development as a live, 
healthy, normal youth. There will be no premium indeed 
on drudgery as drudgery, but there will be the carrying- 
out, in a habitual, reliable way, of the day's work, even 
though it be hard. 

REFEKENCES 

Dewey. Interest as Related to Will, Sections 1, 2, and 4. 
TiTCHENER. An Outline of Psychology, Sections 38-42 inclusive. 
Angell. Psychology, Chapter IV. 
James. Talks to Teachers, Chapters X and XI. 



CHAPTER IX 
THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 

In a paragraph in Chapter VIII, on the attention as syn- 
thesis or association, it was said that one great result of the 
activity of attention is the grouping together mto objects, 
situations, etc. of the various parts of an experience. The 
attention, it was pomtecl out, both notices the parts as parts, 
and groups or fuses them mto units of mterest. The different 
parts of the flower — color, odor, shape, etc. — are noticed 
for themselves, but they are also noticed as a unit. The 
same may be said of the parts of a machme, or the quali- 
ties of an apple. For our interests and our practical pur- 
poses generally, we are quite as likely to attend to the unit 
whole as to the parts. And of course we do not stop with 
the objects themselves : we also attend to and group with 
the objects such additional features as the situation may 
suggest ; for example, the product of the machme, the per- 
son who holds the flower. All these elements of mterest 
and objects of attention fuse into a whole for us, in our 
thought of the thing and our general attitude to it. 

The same thought was brought out in the discussion 
of sense-perception. The association or fusion of various 
items of our experience into what we call a perception 
was found to be one of the main features of the case. In 
fact, as we have already seen m the foregoing chapters, 
the tendency of more or less distinguishable features of 
any state of consciousness to group together mto a unit 
is a very strong one. 

177 



178 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

It ought to be said, too, that this associative tendency 
of consciousness is a basal feature of many mental proc- 
esses which we have yet to consider, and to which sepa- 
rate names are usually given in our common speech and in 
books on psychology. Imagination, memory, judgment, 
reasoning, and volition, — all rest largely on this general ac- 
tivity of association. How this takes place will, it is hoped, 
be made clear as we proceed. 

In explaining the general nature of this prmciple of our 
conscious life, which is called association, or the association 
of ideas, it will perhaps be most useful to regard the asso- 
ciations as already formed, and then to inquire into their 
general conditions and into the way they show themselves in 
our conscious life. That much of our mental life depends 
upon association or suggestion is a commonly well-known 
fact. One good story suggests another. A fragrant odor 
suggests some person, perhaps afar off, or a circumstance of 
long ago. The sight of an apple will suggest its taste, and 
this may lead one to eat it. The thought of one's parents 
may suggest the house they live in, and this one's own room, 
the pictures there, the idea of going home, and the carrying- 
out of that idea. Such examples as these point to the fact 
of association, — that one perception or idea tends to call up 
others out of past experience. Or, to speak more definitely, 
there may be associations between a present sensation or 
perception and som-e idea or memory, between two or more 
memories or ideas, between an idea of doing something and 
the act of performing it. 

There are many features of the inquiry as to the nature, 
causes, and results of these associations, and where we shall 
begin the inquiry is a somewhat arbitrary matter. Our 
discussions thus far, however, have taught us to look for 
at least two general features of any mental activity ; that 



THE ASSOCIATION OP IDEAS 179 

is, its physical or physiological conditions, and its more par- 
ticularly mental or conscious conditions and results. This 
latter inquiry is, in this case, rather a complex aifair, and 
for this reason it may be well to consider the physiological 
conditions first. There is another and perhaps better reason 
for so doing, and this is that the whole matter of associ- 
ation is so clearly based on activities of the nervous system 
that it deserves the first place in our discussion. When 
this feature of the case is pointed out, the mental condi- 
tions and results will be much more clearly seen. 

Physiological conditions of association. Association as a 
matter of brain action goes back to the fundamental plas- 
ticity of the nerve cells and the resulting habits which they 
acquire as their activity goes on. Association is based phys- 
ically on nerve habit. The earliest stimulations affect the 
sensory centers, the earliest movements are the outcome of 
activity in the motor centers, these movements result in 
further stimulation, and stimulation results again in move- 
ment. Sensory centers and motor centers become more and 
more connected by connecting neurones, or association 
tracts. Each experience of movement and stunulation 
leaves its trace in whatever nerve cells are concerned. 
The nervous current or impulse goes now along this series 
of neurones, now along that, according to the nature of the 
situation and the call for action. As the individual matures, 
more and more connecting neurones between the various 
centers are developed and used. Fibrous connections be- 
come more and more established between motor and sensory 
centers, and between both of these and the still higher cen- 
ters. There comes to be a great network of brain cells, cell 
bodies and fibers, connected in all sorts of crisscross ways 
according to the nature of the individual and his sensory 
and active experience. 



180 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

These connections are in great measure a matter of de- 
velopment and modification of structure, as lias been pointed 
out in Chapters III and IV. The connections are, however, 
in a much more important sense, matters of function or ways 
of behavior. There settles down upon the brain tissues, the 
sensory centers, the motor centers, the higher centers, and 
all the connecting tracts, a great series of habits of act- 
ing according to what the stimulations, the movements, the 
reactions of the individual have been. The upshot of the 
matter is, then, that according to the law of habit, when 
any number of bram cells have been in action in certain 
ways together, they tend to act in unison a second time, 
and tend to do so still more strongly a third, a fourth, a 
fifth, and so on. This is simply owing to their plasticity 
and their consequent settling mto habits. This means that 
when one of these brain cells is stimulated by some impulse, 
that impulse or current is carried along and discharged into 
the other cells with which it has been connected in activity 
once or twice or many times before. These cells have been 
associated together in action and have formed the habit of 
acting together. This, then, the law of neural habit, is the 
basis of association looked at as a brain or physical affair. 

But the story is not quite so simple as this, for the reason 
that each one of these cells in the series just spoken of is 
probably a member of another series, or of many other series, 
according to the activities in which it has been engaged in 
the past, according to other stimulations and other responses 
in other situations in which it has been concerned. When 
it is again stimulated, which way will the stimulus be 
transmitted ? To which neighbor will the current be passed 
on ? What will determine the association simply as a matter 
of nervous current ? The brain cell A has been affected in 
a certain way with brain cell B, but it has also its functional 



THE ASSOCIATIOK OF IDEAS 181 

relations fairly well established with C, D, E, F, etc. In 
answer to these questions we may say that the likelihood 
of A dischargmg into B rather than into C, D, E, or F^ will 
depend upon several factors. 

1. The number of times it has done so in the past, com- 
pared with the times it has discharged into any of tlie others. 

2. The intensity or strength of the nervous impulse or 
current with which A and B have been connected m action, 
compared with that between A and any of the others. 

3. The recency of a former connection between A and B 
compared with that between A and any of the others. 

4. Very obviously, the number of former connections 
which A has had in functioning besides those with B, — ■ 
•whether simply a few, as with C, D, and E, or many others. 

5. The general bram set or tension at the time. This 
last point (5) needs some explanation. It refers to the 
general adjustment of the braui to the situation m hand, 
or, in other words, to the direction from which the stimu- 
lation of A came. It may have come along m a series 
XYZA, LMNA, or BSTA. When the nervous current is 
at A, then, it will have a certain tendency or character on 
account of being m one series rather than m another. This 
series represents the bram set or tension at the time. If A 
has come into exercise along the series XYZA, and if 5 is 
that which has belonged next in such a series, then A will 
be much more liltely to be followed by B than by any of 
the others, C, X>, E, F, etc. 

As we have already seen, the brain cells are many, sen- 
sory, motor, and others. The connecting fibers between the 
various groups of cells are countless. Hence the many con- 
nections wliich may be formed as channels of action tlirough- 
out the brain tissue between all these centers, according to 
the experience of the individual. These experiences are more 



182 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

or less fixed in nervous habit according to the plasticity of 
the brain tissues. Hence ,the physical basis of the whole 
life of association is provided for. 

Mental conditions of association. Returning now to the 
association of ideas as a mental affair, or a series of con- 
scious processes, our understanding of it will be more 
thorough on account of being familiar with the physical 
basis. Both accounts taken together ought to furnish a tol- 
erably complete account of the whole matter of association. 

Primary fusion. As was noticed in treating of attention, 
the reason for fusing or associating the various items which 
may be in consciousness at any one moment or in successive 
moments is the interest we have in them, or the fact that we 
attend to them together. To attend to two or more features- 
of any experience, to be interested in them, is to produce a 
unity m the experience. That two ideas shall "be attended 
to or experienced together is the primary condition of their 
association at the time, and is the fundamental principle of 
the calling up of one idea by means of another. When one 
idea of a group, which has been experienced as a group, 
comes to mind, the other members of the group will tend 
also to appear. If, in walking through a swamp, my atten- 
tion and interest are challenged by the notes and flight of 
a flock of red-winged blackbirds, my thought of the swamp 
afterwards will quite likely suggest the blackbirds. At a 
certain theater one sees a part in a play enacted by some 
great actor. The mention of the name of the actor after- 
wards will probably suggest the play and his part, and per- 
haps the theater ; and the probability in the case will largely 
depend on my interest and attention given to the group of 
ideas, the play, the part, the actor, and the theater. In form- 
ing a perception of any object, for example an orange, the 
various features of sensation are grouped or fused because 



THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 183 

they are experienced together, attended to, and acted 
upon. The word "orange" may suggest the color, the taste, 
the act of eating, etc. This series of associations depends 
upon the primary fusion of the various features of the 
orange into a unity by their presence in consciousness and 
by tlie attention and interest exercised. One learned long 
ago that tliree times two are six ; the ideas two, three, six, 
were attended to in such a way that to have the idea group 
three times two is to have the idea six. 

Many names have been given to this fundamental proc- 
ess of fusion or association. We may call it assimilation or 
apperception. The principle of association may be stated 
thus : When one idea of an apperceived group afterwards 
appears in consciousness, the other members of the group 
tend also to appear. We might enlarge the statement of 
the principle by including act as well as idea, and might 
also state that the association may be simultaneous or 
successive. The fundamental fact is the original fusion 
or grouping of the ideas or acts by experiencing them to- 
gether in an interested, attentive way. Any one of these 
features coming to mind will tend to bring along with it 
one or more of the others. 

This general mental principle of association is the counter- 
part of the general physiological or nervous principle spoken 
of above ; namely, when any number of brain cells have been 
in action together, they form a habit of actmg in unison, so 
that when one of them is stimulated in a certain way, the 
others will also behave in the way established by the habit. 

But this explanation, while fundamental, is not suihcient 
to explain all the cases. Again, as in the account of the 
physical basis of association, the story is not so simple. The 
reason for this is that each of the ideas spoken of has prob- 
ably had in the course of one's experience many associates. 



184 AN INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

Take any word as an example : "birthday" may suggest to 
any one person many different memories or ideas of action 
at different times ; the sight o| the lead pencil in my hand 
may suggest where I got it, or that it needs sharpening, or 
that it is too hard to make a good impression on the paper. 
The question then arises. What will determine which of its 
many associates an idea will actually call to mind at any one 
time ? Several factors enter into the solution of this ques- 
tion, and they are very like the factors spoken of above in 
connection with the nervous basis of association, in answer 
to the question as to which of the many possible courses 
the nervous current will take. 

An idea which has been a feature of many associated 
groups of ideas will, in case it appears in consciousness, 
tend to call up the following : 

1. The idea or group of ideas with which it has been 
most frequently associated in the past. If I have usually 
thought of Roosevelt m connection with the Rough Riders, 
the chances are that the mention of that regiment will 
suggest their famous leader. If I have usually thought of 
Pickett's charge m connection with the battle of Gettys- 
burg, the chances are great that the thought of that battle 
will suggest Pickett's charge. 

2. A very recent experience in connection with this idea. 
If an invitation has to-day come to me from a friend to 
visit the field of Gettysburg with him, the name Gettys- 
burg, referred to in the course of the day, will probably put 
my friend again into my mind, and his kind invitation. 

3. If, upon seeing a great man, I have been struck very 
forcibly by a certain peculiarity of his ; if it has interested 
me greatly and called my attention very strongly to itself, 
the chances are great that the mention of the great man's 
name will suggest the peculiarity which stood out so vividly 



THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 185 

in my mind. Vividness then, or deep interest, will deter- 
mine in great measure one's associations. As was pointed 
out above, interest and attention are the great factors in 
securing a fusion of ideas, thus providing the fundamental 
ground of association ; so here we may say that the degree of 
interest and attention given to two or more ideas together 
will measure the probability of one of these ideas recalling 
the other, or others. 

4. There is an additional principle which must be taken 
into account, corresponding on the mental side to what 
was called above, in pointing out the physical conditions 
of association, the general brain set or tension at the time 
of recall. That idea which is in keeping with the general 
interest or apperceptive set or tension of the mind at pres- 
ent will tend to be recalled. In other words, one's present 
interest or line of thought will largely determine which 
of many possible associates will now be suggested by an 
idea. If I am concerned about my health, the sight of an 
apple will probably suggest its wholesomeness rather than 
its market value. The word " trout " would suggest one 
thing if my sporting interest were on top, another if zoo- 
logical interests were uppermost in my mind. If aesthetic 
considerations were dominating me, the sight of my chair 
might suggest the great propriety of having a bonfire. If 
I am weary, the sight of my old chair suggests comfort 
and rest, and has great value accordingly. One's interest 
and line of thought at the time, then, will largely determine 
what one's associations in thought and in action with an 
idea or perception will be. 

We may now sum up the principles involved physically 
and mentally in the association process. Physically, the 
fundamental principle is that of neural habit, that when 
two or more brain cells have been in action together, the 



186 AN INTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

renewed activity of the one will tend to transmit the nerv- 
ous impulse to the other, so that the two will again act in 
unison. In addition to this there must be taken into the 
account the likelihood of A discharging into JB, rather than 
into any of its other functional connections, this likelihood 
depending upon the frequency of their working together, 
their recency of connection, the intensity of the nervous 
impulse in their former functioning, the scarcity of other 
functional connections, and the general bram set or tension 
at the time. 

The general mental law of association we have seen to 
be, that when two or more ideas have been experienced 
together with some degree of interest and attention, thereby 
fusing them into a measure of unity, the reappearance of 
one of these ideas in consciousness will tend to revive the 
others also. Which idea or idea group among its former 
associates a certain perception or idea will actually call 
up at any one time will depend upon the following factors : 
frequency of association, recency of experiencing the ideas 
together, forcibleness of the joint impression, and the gen- 
eral interest or apperceptive set of the mind at the time. 
On the mental side there might be added a further condi- 
tion, — that the idea with few rivals for connection with 
a certain other idea in mind will have a better chance for 
recall than if its rivals were more numerous. 

These two sets of conditions of association, the physical 
and the mental, will be noticed to be practically the same. 
This is not strange, as we are really pointing out the condi- 
tions of a single process viewed from two sides or points 
of view. The functioning of the brain cells in an associa- 
tive way, and the flowing of the stream of consciousness in 
associated idea groups, — these go right along together and 
are separable only for our reflection. 



THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 187 

Secondary principles of association. There are certain 
other principles of association, whicli may be called second- 
ary principles, that express our customary ways of refer- 
ring to those objects which we associate. These principles 
are not fundamental, but secondary, and even superficial, 
and may easily be seen to rest on the principles already 
mentioned. The first one is the principle of similarity. A 
stranger is seen who reminds one of an intimate friend be- 
cause of a great resemblance in appearance. A landscape 
or a house suggests another that is very similar in ap- 
pearance. In such a case there are certain features of the 
objects, the person, the landscape, the house, which are 
practically identical with the corresponding features of the 
objects one is familiar with. The attention being drawn to 
these, the other features of the familiar thing come to mind 
(or at least the general impression does), because these other 
features are the ones commonly experienced with the fea- 
tures which now challenge attention. One does associate 
objects which are similar, but only for the reason that one's 
habitual ideas come up in connection with the new and 
unfamiliar object, person, landscape, house, etc. Familiar 
objects, too, which are similar in appearance or way of 
behavior suggest one another. This may be explained, in 
addition to the explanation given above, by the fact that 
the association has probably been made before, or that they 
have been learned together, and their similarities pointed 
out, so that their association is really based on the simple 
principle of habit. 

Another secondary feature of association is that of con- 
trast. Occasionally, though not with a great degree of 
frequency, perceptions or ideas of certain objects will call 
up ideas of other objects when there is a strong contrast 
between them. The sight of the dwarf may suggest the 



188 AN INTEODUCTOKY PSYCHOLOGY 

giant ; the fair day, the day of violent storm ; the dull gray 
costume, that of brilliant color ; the man who is a failure m 
life, the man who is a striking success. Though such con- 
trasting objects are sometimes associated, it is not because 
of the contrasts holding between them that the association 
takes place. Such associations depend upon the fundamen- 
tal principle of association, — that these contrasting features 
have been experienced, or attended to, together. One great 
way of learning anything is to have brought out clearly, not 
only its likeness to other things we know, but also its dif- 
ference with respect to other features, objects, qualities, etc. 
Thus these striking differences or contrasts are our com- 
monly associated ideas early in the process of learning. Still 
further, the matter of association by contrast may be ex- 
plained by the fact that, after all, the contrasting objects 
have a fundamental common property, and in our thought 
of the objects the common property is the link between 
them. The dull gray and the brilliant color in our example 
have in common the feature of being a costume color; 
if the two have not been definitely learned together, each 
has been thought of as being a costume color, and perhaps 
as a striking variation from what one usually sees. This 
last would certainly be the case in the example of the dwarf 
and the giant. Association by contrast, then, as we have said, 
rests upon association by one's having attentively experi- 
enced the two features at some time together. Just what 
contrasting feature will be suggested by an idea or percep- 
tion will again depend upon the subprmciples of associa- 
tive recall stated above, — frequency, recency, strength, and 
the bent of the mind at the time. 

Again, we tend to associate objects, people, and things 
in the same locality ; also events which happened in the 
same day, month, summer, etc. When these associations 



^ THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 189 

take place, it is not because the events happen in the same 
period of time, nor because the people and objects are in 
the same locality, but because we attend to them together ; 
they are parts of the same interest, and thus become 
fused. The events of a day have a connection in our ex- 
perience ; things together in space we naturally attend to 
together. The associating takes place because the differ- 
ent items are lived together by us, and not because of the 
spatial and temporal relations between the objects. To see 
a person may easily suggest other members of the person's 
family ; an event may call to mind its cause. These, and 
many other instances of our associations of ideas which 
might be spoken of, are very clearly not separate principles 
of association, but go back to the fundamental principle 
already brought out. An event and its cause are experi- 
enced together, learned together, and attended to in a 
common interest ; hence the fusion. So with family rela- 
tions, — those of father and son, brother and sister, etc. 

Association as a general principle of mental activity is, 
in the ways we have spoken of, constantly at work deter- 
mining the form and content of the present and future 
moments of our conscious lives. It is in one way, as we 
have noticed, a feature or result of the attention process, 
but it is of such importance that we commonly speak of it 
as being an independent principle. Attention and uiterest, 
discrimmation and association, are not really separate, but 
each involves the others, and all are alike simply well- 
marked features of the processes of consciousness. 

The effect of association and the ways of its working 
have already been brought out in the treatment of percep- 
tion. Perceptions are possible because of this way of the be- 
havior of consciousness called association. The same might 
be said and will be seen to be true of the other conscious 



190 AN INTKODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

processes, — imagination, memory, conception, judgment, 
reasoning, emotion, sentiment, and volition. 

Practical and educational applications. Tlie principle of 
association being such an important one in mental life and 
development, to take it into account and make advanta- 
geous use of it should be an ever-present and consciously 
important ami of the teacher and of each individual m the 
training of his own and others' minds. The aim of educa- 
tion from one point of view is the development in the mind 
of the learner of abundant and proper associations. The full 
account of the application of this prmciple to the process of 
teachmg, and to the effective development of the mmd, can 
only be given in connection with the treatment of those 
further mental processes in which association plays so large 
a part, — memory, imagination, and reasoning. Here, how- 
ever, the more general applications of the principle may be 
seen. These applications must be understood m the light 
of what has already been said in discussing the topics of 
habit, attention, and interest ; for, as we have seen, associa- 
tion rests upon the law of neural habit and is really an 
expression of the life of habit, as well as a result of the 
activity of attention and interest. 

It is all important that certam situations in which an in- 
dividual is placed shall call up certain ideas, memories, or 
images, which in turn can direct him to right and useful 
conduct under the circumstances. Here the associations 
of ideas are between the perceptions or imaginations of the 
situation one is m, the meaning or full realization of such a 
situation, and the thought of actions to be performed and 
purposes to be realized by the actions so as to reach a happy 
issue. Such a perception-thought-action situation might 
be described in terms of habit, and we have done so in 
Chapter IV. It is a case of forming proper habits and of 



THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 191 

properly using the habits and powers which we have. It is 
also a case of having rich and proper associations, so that 
one will not be floored by situations in which one is placed, 
but will have a chain of associated ideas which will enable 
him to appreciate the circumstances and act advantageously 
therein. In this mental and practical aspect we may notice 
the close connection between association and habit, as well 
as on the physical side where neural habit directs the line 
of association. 

But association, it has already been suggested more than 
once, depends upon attention ' and interest. If we would 
have associations of ideas which will stand, we must attend 
to the group of ideas together, and must fuse them in the 
heat of a genuine interest. Accordingly, those associations 
will persist which have thus been made by the work of at- 
tention and interest. If one would form associations which 
will be of use, which will be right for conduct and true for 
thought, this end must be brought about by the proper 
guidance of the attention and interest. 

In order that rich and varied associations may be formed 
by the mdividual, he must have some degree of riclm.ess 
and variety in his observation experience. This wealth of 
the material of associations is needed, if the ideas associated 
are to play their part well in the various conscious states. 
These ideas may become a part of the furnishing of the 
mind in all the ways in which learning may take place. In 
observation of things and people and their ways of behavior ; 
by close examination and by general impression ; by action 
and experiment in connection with one's envu-onment ; by 
study, by travel, by reading ; in fact by all the ways, as 
was said above, in which learning and the gaining of ideas 
may take place, may the individual become the possessor 
of a body of ideas which will be of the greatest benefit. In 



192 AN INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

all this experience of learning and gaining associated groups 
of ideas, the teacher may be of the greatest assistance to 
the pupil in helping to provide rich and varied material in 
connection with which the desired end may be reached. 

But further, as we have learned, the gaining of ideas 
is not merely a matter of there being an environment, no 
matter how rich and varied, which may play more or less 
strongly on the senses. Learning really takes place, and 
associations are genuinely formed, when the attention and 
interest are exercised, and that along natural lines. Here, 
again, by direction and encouragement the interest of the 
pupil may be guided and the sort of associations formed 
largely determined. In so far as environment, using the 
term " environment " to denote physical, mental, and moral 
conditions, can be supplied, and in so far as the interest 
and attention of the pupil can be influenced with respect to 
reaction upon this envuonment, just in so far can teachers 
determine what more or less fixed and lasting associations 
shall be formed by the pupil. The connection here with the 
formation of habit is very close. The teacher can encourage 
certain associations in connection with the sight of a pic- 
ture, with an event in history, with certain lines of a poem, 
with a story, with the sight of a grasshopper, with a person 
in distress, with response and activity in the way of honesty, 
truthtelling, etc. In all the ways of supplying environment, 
in all the ways of the forming of habits, in all the ways of 
directing interest and attention, the teacher may be of great 
assistance in the obtaining of ideas and in the fixing of asso- 
ciations between them. 

Those secondary principles of association mentioned 
above, such as similarity, contrast, nearness in space and 
time, family relation, cause-and-effect relation, etc., may 
be of assistance in showing the nature of associations which 



THE ASSOCIATION OF IDEAS 193 

people form very naturally and wliich it is well to have 
formed. From the first there is a tendency to group things 
which are alike and to discriminate those which differ. We 
learn by marking likenesses and differences, and hence form 
associations of similarity and contrast which it is useful to 
form. Events happening near together in time, those of 
the same day, year, generation, century, it is well to attend 
to and learn in such a way that they may suggest one an- 
other. Not that this is the final way of dealing with them, 
as we shall see in the chapter on reasoning ; but if the 
events are so grouped in associated ideas (that is, in mem- 
ory) we have an abundance of material to use in building 
up knowledge in a more reasoned way. So with associating 
people and things of the same locality, people of the same 
family, society, etc. Such associations as those of cause and 
effect, which stand for what we ordinarily call real relations 
between things, are of great value and are practically of 
the nature of reasoned conclusions; the discernment of rela- 
tions like these ranks very high among the elements of our 
knowledge. Such discernment may be encouraged so that 
it will be the lasting and useful property of the possessor. 

Whatever connections we may arrive at among ideas, 
whether in habit, observation, imagination, reasoning, emo- 
tion, or sentiment, the connection among them which abides 
is that of association by means of attention and interest 
based on the laws of neural habit. Associations are the 
habits of ideas with respect to one another, are the basis 
of memory, imagination, conception, judgment, and reason- 
ing, and play a great part in perception, emotion, sentiment, 
and volition. 

In all the study of school subjects and in all the learn- 
ing life of the child, parents and teachers can be of the 
greatest infl.uence in helping towards the forming of those 



194 A-N INTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

associations which go to make up true and useful learning 
and proper and efficient conduct. By realizing these facts, 
— that one's knowledge is to so great an extent determined 
by environment and by other people, that it is really a matter 
of forming associated groups of ideas, and that there are 
certain laws or principles according to which these associa- 
tions of ideas are naturally formed, — an intelligent course 
of action on the part of teachers and of all concerned with 
mental development is opened up. These applications of 
the principles of association to the work of the teacher 
and the matter of learning have been, mdeed, of a gen- 
eral nature ; but they indicate the trend of the process of 
learning, and will be seen to apply throughout its whole 
range. Association itself is a fundamental characteristic of 
the behavior of consciousness. More specific and definite 
applications of the prmciple of association must be looked 
for in the treatment of memory, imagination, reasoning, etc., 
where the general movement of association finds its practi- 
cal expression in the way of building and using knowledge. 

REEEKENCES 

James. Psychology, Briefer Course, Chapter XVI. 
Thorndike. Elements of Psychology, Section 45. 
Baldwin. Elements of Psychology, Chapter XII. 
MiJNSTERBERG. Psychology and the Teacher, Chapter XVII. 



CHAPTER X 
THE IDEATIONAL PROCESSES: MEMORY 

Memory as one of the ideational processes. In Chapters 
V and VI were described the conscious processes of sense 
stimulation, sensation and perception. These are the foun- 
dation of the mind's knowledge, furnishing it with material 
for higher development. In Chapters VIII and IX the na- 
ture of those general ways of the procedure of the mind, 
attention and association, in developing knowledge was set 
forth. We are now come to the further processes and prod- 
uct of conscious life, which may be called the ideational 
processes. These will be discussed in this and the two fol- 
lowing chapters under the headings Memory, Imagination, 
and Conception and the Thought Process. They are the 
higher ranges of conscious processes, being concerned with 
the fuller development of the mind as a knowing agent. 

By the ideational mental processes is meant those con- 
scious states which consist of images and ideas. The mind 
has images or representations of objects even when the 
latter are not stimulating the sense organs. This imaging 
function of the mind might be called imagination. The term 
used in this way would be a comprehensive, generic term, 
including as species under it what we commonly call mem- 
ory, and the thought processes, as well as what is known as 
imagination, which is in popular thought and speech con- 
trasted with memory. These uses and distinctions will be 
made plain as we proceed. The relation of the generic term 
imagination to its species might be represented thus : 

195 



196 



A^ INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 



IMAGINATION 

L 



Memory 

Consciousness of ob- 
jects not now stimu- 
lating the sense or- 
gans, accompanied hy 
the consciousness that 
they have been experi- 
enced before. 



1 
Imagination 

Consciousness of ol^- 
jects not now stimu- 
lating the sense or- 
gans, and tchich a2ipar- 
ently never did. (The 
specific, narrow, or 
popular sense.) 



Conception 

and 

Thought 
(to be explained 
in Chapter XII). 



We shall first discuss memory, and after that miagination, 
although the order might just as well be reversed. Both 
depend on the association process. Both depend originally 
on the processes of sense experience. Both depend on at- 
tention and mterest. Both are in turn concerned m the 
thought process and in volition. Both depend physically 
on central stimulations of tlie brain cortex, rather than 
directly on peripheral or sense stimulation. Under imagi- 
nation the generic nature of the ideational processes will 
receive some consideration, as well as what we commonly 
call imagination. First, however, we shall take up those 
ideational experiences which bear the mark of memory. 

Definition. It is not difficult to cite examples of memo- 
ries. The events of yesterday as I remember them, those 
of the past few moments or those of last year as they 
come now to mind, are indeed very familiar experiences. 
These events are not occurrmg now, but they did occur. 
They were events in my experience, and now I am living 
them over in memory. We may then define memory as the 
living over again m our consciousness of an event which 
is no longer present to sense, and bemg aware that we 
have experienced it before, — this awareness being the 
differentiating mark. 



THE IDEATIONAL PROCESSES: MEMORY 197 

The term " memory ^ might be used to denote any Hving 
over again of an experience as a whole or in somPfe of its 
parts, even though it were not accompanied with the con- 
sciousness that we have experienced it before. But in our 
common speech, and indeed m psychological usage, it is 
customary to mean by the term just the memory proper, as 
we have indicated in the definition, a real part of the expe- 
rience being the recognition or familiarity feature. The gen- 
eral process of having in consciousness a revival of a past 
sensation or perception is often called representation. It 
is also called ideation, the having of ideas (the ideational 
process referred to above), or imagination, the having m the 
mind imagery or images. In the chapter on imagination we 
shall agam refer to this representing or imagining phase of 
our conscious life. 

In cliscussmg the subject of memory, it will be well to 
keep in mind a clear distinction between the physical and 
the mental aspects of the case, that is, between the brain 
activities and the events m consciousness. Both aspects 
stand out strongly, and both are needed to make the story 
complete. 

Phases of memory. There are certain terms used in 
connection with memory processes which mdicate stages of 
memory. We speak of a retentive memory, or of facts be- 
ing retained m memory. We also speak of memory as the 
recalling of past experiences. " I do not remember " and 
" I do not recall " are but different ways of speaking of 
the same experience. " I remember " and " I recollect " are 
used interchangeably. To recognize a ]3erson mentioned in 
conversation as an mdividual whom one has known is to 
remember him. Retention, recall, and recognition are three 
aspects or stages of the memory process, as we commonly 
speak of memory, and so we may formally state that the 



198 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

three main features of the memory process are retention, 
actual recall or reproduction, and recognition. The remem- 
bered experience must have been, by some means, retained ; 
it must actually reappear in the stream of consciousness, 
and, if really remembered, must be recognized as having 
happened before m our experience. 

Conditions of retention. Let us ask, then, how an experi- 
ence is retained and what are the conditions of retention in 
memory. To begin with the mental side : the experience 
is not retained in consciousness or stored up in the mind 
in some mysterious way ; our minds are not filled with any 
such storage compartments ; we must look elsewhere for 
the retaining of the experience. We may detect, how- 
ever, the mental conditions which account for the retention, 
and these it is important to note. First, that experience is 
retained in memory which at the time was given a great 
deal of attention. The unimportant items of experience 
are not usually retained, but the important ones are at- 
tended to and consequently retained. By being attended 
to, these aspects become vivid and definite. Second, those 
things which interest us deeply or work upon our feelings 
are likely to be retained in memory. These are important 
for us, we attend to them ; they are forcible, achieve a clear 
and well-marked place in experience, and we are not likely 
to forget them. Third, experiences which are often repeated 
tend to impress themselves upon the memory ; the repetition 
makes them ever clearer and more and more a part of the 
mental equipment. Those mental experiences, then, to which 
we are attentive, those which are important, vivid, intense, 
and stir the feelings, and those which are often repeated, 
tend to be retained most strongly in memory. In other 
words, the mental conditions of retention are attention, 
interest, and repetition. 



THE IDEATIONAL PROCESSES: MEMOEY 199 

To cite these mental conditions, however, does not ex- 
plain why these experiences should .be retained nor on what 
retention depends. The most satisfactory explanation is in 
physical terms, that is, in terms of the brain processes con- 
cerned. Here we have to fall back on the law of nervous 
habit. When once the brain centers behave in certain ways 
they afterward tend to act in these same ways. Experiences 
are stamped, as it were, upon the tissue of the brain. These 
modifications of cell structure and function are more or 
less well retained, and this retention is that on which this 
phase of memory depends. We can see, then, very clearly 
'why the mental experiences cited above should be retained. 
To attend to an impression and to be interested in it means 
that a very lively action is going on in the brain cells con- 
cerned. The intensity or strength of the action of the brain 
cells means genuine retention of the modification of struc- 
ture and function. Repetition of the stimulus aids in the 
same process. Cells are modified and paths are made, so 
that when the proper stimulus arrives and the slumbering 
cells are again awakened, it is shown that the experiences 
have been faitlifuUy retained by the brain. 

We have now cited the mental conditions of retention and 
the physical basis on which the fact of retention depends. 
The next topic in order will be the second phase of the 
memory process, the actual reproduction or recall of a past 
experience- 
Conditions of recall. As we have already seen, the recall 
of a circumstance, a name, an experience, an event, depends 
upon the process of association. This process of association 
may be explained, as was pointed out in Chapter IX, on 
The Association of Ideas, in terms of brain processes and 
in mental terms. Let us note again the main feature of asso- 
ciation on the physical side. Here again, as in retention, we 



200 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

have a case of habit of the nerve centers. Cell centers are 
modified by their stimulations, and association tracts are 
established between various centers and groups of centers. 
Whenever anything occurs to set up activity in any one of 
these centers, activity is also set up in some related center. 
The laws of brain association hold here and determine the 
course of activity of the nervous force. On the mental side, 
too, we merely have to repeat the story of the association of 
ideas. One event is called to mind by another memory or 
present perception. We thus remember because we asso- 
ciate. Those items of our past experience will be recalled 
which come up in the regular way of association. 

On these laws of association physically and mentally 
will all our recalling of past experiences, names, events, 
dates, etc., depend. More specifically, recalling or actually 
calling to memory past experiences will depend, first, on 
the retention of these experiences as explained above, by 
means of the conditions named, physical and mental ; 
second, physically, on the great number and persistence 
of the brain paths, or association tracts connecting the 
various cell groups, upon which the association process 
depends ; mentally, on the great number of connections 
among ideas established in the course of one's experience. 
The more thoroughly a fact or event is learned or experi- 
enced, now in one connection, now in another, the more 
likely will it be to come up in memory. The reader is again 
referred to the statement of the laws of association as 
given in Chapter IX. A formal statement of those laws is 
at the same time a statement of the conditions of recall. 

Conditions and nature of recognition. The third feature of 
the memory experience is its familiarity, or the conscious- 
ness that it is the living over of a past experience. Mere 
retention and reproduction of a name Avould not impress one 



THE IDEATIONAL PROCESSES: MEMORY 201 

with a real memory of it, though there might be a feehng 
that the name itself is familiar; but when the name sug- 
gests the look of the person for whom it stands, the place 
where the person was last seen, and the various circumstances 
of our meeting, then there is a real memory and recognition. 
It is the calling up of the various ideas associated with the 
name that gives us the whole memory in the way of familiar 
recognition. We usually recognize an old idea in so far as 
we are able to call up these old relationships. 

It sometimes happens that a vivid imaginary object or 
set of circumstances becomes so clear and definite in the 
mind, the features of the case seem so real and circumstan- 
tial, that the mind believes in it as a memory, or, in other 
words, seems to recognize it. A good illustration of this 
is portrayed by George Eliot in " Silas Marner," where a 
peddler was under suspicion in a case of robbery. "Mr. 
Snell was correct in his surmise that somebody else would 
remember the peddler's earrings. For on the spread of in- 
quiry among the villagers it was stated, with gathering 
emphasis, that the parson had wanted to know whether the 
peddler wore earrmgs in his ears, and an impression was 
created that a great deal depended on the eliciting of this 
fact. Of course, every one who heard the question, not 
having any distinct image of the peddler as tvithout earrings, 
immediately had an image of him with earrings, larger or 
smaller, as the case might be ; and the image was presently 
taken for a vivid recollection, so that the glazier's wife, a 
well-intentioned woman, not given to lying, and whose house 
was among the cleanest in the village, was ready to declare, 
as sure as ever she meant to take the sacrament the very next 
Cliristmas that ever was coming, that she had seen big ear- 
rings, in the shape of the young moon, in the peddler's two 
ears ; while Jinny Oates, the cobbler's daughter, being a 



202 AN INTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

more imaginative person, stated not only that she had seen 
them, too, but that they had made her blood creep, as it did 
at that very moment while there she stood." 

In recognition, then, we have the central idea, and in 
addition to this, the ideas, more or less complete, experi- 
enced with it in times past, — the definiteness of the recog- 
nition depending upon the completeness of the revival 
of associates, the reestablishment of its setting. There is 
probably more than this involved m the case. There is an 
adjustment of the self to the revived circumstances, result- 
ing in consciousness in certain organic feelings which have 
a decided tinge of agreeableness. We feel at home in so 
far as we recognize. This agreeable feeling may indeed soon 
be replaced by any unpleasantness mtrinsically associated 
with this particular person or event which we recognize, 
but the first wave of consciousness in the case is pleasant. 
Recognition as a phase of memory, then, may be said to 
consist, first, of the reproduced idea ; second, of the asso- 
ciated ideas or setting of the experience ; and third, of the 
" at home " feeling, temporarily at least, pleasant. 

The "at home" feeling, the mark of recognition, we have 
just noted to consist of certain organic feelings resulting 
from the adjustment of the self to the revived circumstances. 
Just what does take place is not entirely clear. Certain 
extreme and yet very common exhibitions of it may, how- 
ever, give us a clew. By these are meant the lighting up of 
the face, the attitude on the part of the body of " going out" 
to something, greeting, as it were, the recalled circumstance. 
Then there is the even more strongly expressed exhibition 
of actual recognition and greeting of a friend on his return 
after a long absence. The whole psychophysical organism 
seems to respond, and the result in consciousness seems to 
be the feeling of familiarity, or recognition. Even in the less 



THE IDEATIONAL PEOCESSES : MEMORY 203 

expressive cases of the experience, in ordinary memory, the 
inner bodily reaction is probably of much the same sort. 

Recognition in perception. It should be added that we 
may have this same recognition experience in a perception. 
Some object or person perceived may be recognized as 
familiar. In Chapter VI, on perception, the fact was men- 
tioned that oftentimes a perception is recognized. The only 
difference between recognition m perception and recogni- 
tion in memory would seem to be that the first factor in the 
case of perception is the consciousness of the object now 
present to the senses, while in the case of memory it is the 
recalled central idea. With this exception, the total state of 
mind called recognition is the same in the two cases. 

The sense of time in memory and perception. An impor- 
tant feature of the memory experience, closely connected 
with recognition if not included m it, is the consciousness, 
more or less definite, of the date of the occurrence in our 
past experience. If the date, hour, day, month, or year is 
thought of at the time of occurrence, this item will be one 
of the associates of the remembered idea and will be a part 
of the general recognition. This is, however, not always, 
perhaps not very frequently, the case, and then our placing 
the memory in time is of a more indirect sort. Quite fre- 
quently the association of the event in question as a matter 
of time is merely that it happened a long or short time 
before or after some other event, which we perhaps remem- 
ber more definitely as to the time of its occurrence. " Quite 
recently" or " a long time ago " may be as definite as we can 
be in the case. Here comes in our judgment of the lapse 
of time, or duration. The time of the occurrence will be esti- 
mated in the near or remote past, and in a certain degree 
of nearness or remoteness, accordmg to the conditions 
which go to determine our sense of the lapse of time. 



204 AN INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

In Chapter VI, on perception, it was also intimated that 
one's consciousness of the time aspects of experience was 
important both for perception and for memory. It becomes 
necessary to say a few words on the subject here. 

The two main aspects of time experience are duration 
and succession. Our experiences of events are that they 
last for a more or less definite period, and that some come 
before others, while still others follow. It is of events last- 
ing a certain time and succeeding one another that we 
are conscious. When we speak of a more dh-ect conscious- 
ness of time, — that is, time by itself, or emj^ty time, — 
we are simply referring to an abstract idea. How abstract 
ideas or concepts are formed we shall inquire in Chapter XII. 
The abstract idea of empty time is neither |)erceived nor 
remembered, and so it need not concern us here. What we 
have experience of is not time, but the events or happen- 
ings themselves. 

We use the term " present time " in several ways. We 
may speak of a mere point of time, having no duration, as 
the real present. For, as soon as that moment comes, it 
flies and becomes past ; and before it comes, it is still future. 
Another way in which we speak of the present refers to 
certain more or less arbitrary sections of time's flow, as the 
present minute, hour, day, month, summer, winter, year, 
etc. None of such " presents " are directly experienced all 
at once. They refer to •a certain series that we mark off for 
purposes of convenience. Psychologically, the term "pres- 
ent " includes that amount of time experience which we can 
be directly aware of at once. This is more than a point, 
for such could not exist consciously. But it is less than 
most of the so-called " present " times. What one pulse 
of attention can grasp in the experience of flowing events 
may properly be called present time psychologically. This 



THE IDEATIO^^AL PEOCESSES : MEMORY 205 

may be from a small fraction of a second, in some cases, 
to a few seconds in others, — twelve seconds being, appar- 
ently, the maximum. 

In early life the mind is not directly conscious of dura- 
tion, any more than it is of length or location in space. 
Certain kinds of experiences, however, such as Avaiting for 
food when hungry, or waitmg for the next tap of sound 
when interested, tend to make it gradually appear. The feel- 
ings bemg mvolved, and wants bemg present to be satisfied, 
the " not-yet," or the wait between two satisfactory experi- 
ences, tends to stand out prominently. After a while the 
" not-yet " seems to be known and experienced, more or less 
definitely, as duration. So in the case of succession. A quick 
change in the stimulus — now happily present, now alas ! 
gone — seems to make the "now" and the "not-now" stand 
out strongly. Repeated experiences of this sort — the feel- 
ings and interest and attention being involved — seem to be 
the beginnings, crude at first, of the idea of succession. In 
some such way does the mind, by attending, gradually get 
these two main time ideas, duration and succession. 

Perception or judgment of duration is notoriously inac- 
curate. If the members of a class are asked to raise hands 
when a minute has elapsed, no external aids to time-judg- 
ment being relied on, some hands will probably appear as 
soon as twenty seconds, and usually all hands are up before 
the minute has gone. The average will probably be about 
forty seconds. When time hangs heavy, when there is little of 
interest going on, when in pain or suspense, the minutes or 
hours move with leaden feet, and duration is overestimated. 
On the other hand when all is joyful, when one is busy and 
interested, then one is surprised that the time has sped. 

Ah, never doth Time travel faster, 
Than v^^hen his way lies among flov^rers. 



206 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

Practice seems to improve this capacity for judging dura- 
tions, and yet our main reliance is on clocks, watches, day 
and night, etc., for keeping people at one in this particular. 
It is quite likely that the mind has failed to develop great 
exactness in this matter on account of these more or less 
artificial helps and correctors. 

The extension of our notions of duration and succession 
into the past and future is, of course, the mind's constant 
practice. Minutes, hours, days, months, years, centuries, 
being a sort of arbitrary scheme, make -a kind of frame- 
work for this. Gradually " before and after " and " lasting 
a certain time " come to be second nature for us in arrang- 
ing experiences gone by and experiences to come. 

Localizing our past experiences more or less exactly in 
time is an important feature of memory and has already 
been spoken of as a phase of recognition. One rather curi- 
ous aspect of the case of remembering durations is that 
the mind behaves in a way exactly the reverse of the way 
it behaves when experiencing the events themselves. In 
memory the time filled with many and interesting events, 
times of joy and excitement, seems to amount to much 
more in the way of duration than does the time filled with 
memories of dull, uninteresting days when nothing in par- 
ticular seemed to happen. The events expand in the one 
case, and shrivel in the other. One's retrospect is not so 
much of objective time as it is of actual experiences, and so 
we make our underestimates and our overestimates. This 
seems to correspond somewhat with the fact in spatial expe- 
rience that we judge filled spaces to be greater than spaces 
where few objects intervene. 

Recognition was seen to depend largely on the degree 
to which the accompanying circumstances were reinstated 
in memory. Here the relations of events as before and 



THE IDEATIONAL PROCESSES: MEMORY 207 

after other events, together with associations of them with 
certain days and dates, seem to be the factors which deter- 
mine the mind in placmg events in their time relations in 
memory. 

The training of memory. We have noticed the nature of 
the process of memory as a conscious aff ah% and in general 
the conditions of remembering. Let us now point out more 
definitely the features of the case as we apply them m the 
process of education. 

The chief work of the teacher and the learner in the 
matter of memory is to see to it that the conditions of re- 
tention, reproduction, and recognition are fulfilled. In what 
does the fulfilling of these conditions consist ? These con- 
ditions are of two classes, the physical conditions of body 
and brain, and the mental conditions. It is the latter sort 
that are mostly under our control, and it is to these, for the 
most part, that the attention of the teacher must be given. 

The quality of the nerve cells of the brain is, for each 
individual, practically a fixed affair. Of course these nerve 
centers are in a better condition to retain impressions in 
health than in ill health, in a state where body and brain 
are rested rather than where they are tired, in youth rather 
than in old age. These conditions should be looked after 
as best we can, and our teaching and learnmg carried on 
when these conditions are at their best. If the physical 
conditions of obtaining sensations and perceptions are lived 
up to, and if careful attention is paid to those general 
conditions of the most efficient activity of the bram cells, 
then about all has been done that can be m the matter of 
inducing retentiveness as a general bram capacity. For 
better or for worse, the pupil's brain retentiveness is what 
it is, and at best is subject to but little change, and the 
teacher's task is in so far a comparatively simple one. 



208 AN INTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

But the mental conditions of memory — that is, of reten- 
tion, reproduction, and recognition — are such that much 
can be done by teacher and learner m the way of develop- 
ment. To begin with, we may say that the great secret of 
memory is in the learning of that which one would remember. 
Take care of the learning, and the remembering will take care 
of itself. In order to learn a thing well, the attention must 
be devoted to it. Then will the thing to be learned be clear. 
If the material to be learned is well attended to, mental 
analysis and synthesis will take place. The parts will be 
clearly understood as separate items and also in relation 
to one another, and retention will be likely to result. The 
subject must also awaken the interest. Then will the thing 
to be learned be vivid. It must be in line with real inter- 
ests and express the real life of the person. These are, as 
we have seen, two of the main conditions of retention. If 
studied in this way, the various parts of the subject will 
be understood, they will have a meaning each for many of 
the others, the relationships between this and other objects 
of study and experience will begin to stand out clearly, and 
one will really become familiar with the matter in hand. It 
was also pointed out that repetition is conducive to reten- 
tion. In the matter of repetition two points should be care- 
fully attended to. Nothing should be repeated over and 
over which is not well understood. First understand and 
then repeat. No amount of repetition will take the place of 
good teaching and attentive study. Bare repetition is not 
the most serviceable sort. To repeat in the way of bare 
repetition is likely to kill out interest and to render the fact 
so repeated isolated and useless in one's knowledge and re- 
membrance. The repeating should be carried on largely in 
connection with new work. To use the fact for a new pur- 
pose is much better than bare repetition. Express the idea 



THE IDEATIONAL PEOCESSES : MEMOEY 209 

in all practicable ways, and the idea will become clearer and 
be better retained. These mental conditions of retention 
may be carefully looked after in all subjects taught in the 
schoolroom. The problem is one of the way of learning, 
rather than directly a matter of retaining. To learn the 
thing in the attentively interested way, so as to really know 
it, to go over it again in review in the way spoken of above 
and in all practicable expressions, — these are the condi- 
tions for the most probable retention of the matter in hand. 

We have spoken of retention; how about reproduction or 
recall ? In treating of the conditions of retention as ap- 
plied practically, we have incidentally answered the ques- 
tion as to the taking care of this second feature of the 
memory process. The likelihood of the recall of an item of 
knowledge depends on the number and strength of its 
associations with other features of our knowledge. The very 
obvious corollary for our educational work is that facts 
should not be learned by themselves, but in connection 
with all the other facts and principles with which they 
naturally belong. The relationship between this item of 
knowledge and other items inside or outside the school- 
room and school work, other items and principles in the same 
subject of study and in other subjects and in practical life 
should be clearly seen. Then will there be rich and inter- 
esting associations with this item of knowledge, and one will 
be able to recall it when needed. The associations thus es- 
tablished will be the firmer by being striking, interesting, 
frequent, and carefully attended to, and thus will become 
part and parcel of one's experience. 

The same principle holds with respect to recognition. 
An item of knowledge or an event in one's experience de- 
pends for its recognition on our being able to recall its 
setting. If the matter in question is thoroughly learned, if 



210 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

it becomes genuinely interwoven with those other features 
of experience with which it naturally belongs, then will the 
recognition be the natural consequence upon recall. 

It is not difficult to apply these simple principles of 
memorizing to the specific feature of school work or of any 
other practical activity. If attention and interest can be 
secured, the rest is simple. If these are secured, if the per- 
ception is exact and definite, if that which is studied is 
thoroughly understood, if it is often repeated and variously 
expressed, especially m connection with new items, if it is 
learned in thorough association with its natural connections, 
inside or outside the schoolbook and schoolroom, in the 
same subject and in other subjects, and then if the phys- 
ical condition of the body and brain are normally good, the 
remembrance of what the pupil learns will be as satisfactory 
as one could reasonably ask for. 

KEFERENCES 

James. Psychology, Briefer Course, Chapter XVIII. 

JuDD. Psychology, pp. 231-241. 

Thorndike. Elements of Psychology, Sections 10 and 46. 

Sully. The Human Mind, Vol. I, pp. 318-329. 

MuNSTERBERG. Psychology and the Teacher, Chapter XVI. 

TiTCHENER. An Outline of Psychology, Chapter XI. (Reference 

also for Chapter XI of this book.) 
Miller. The Psychology of Thinking, Chapters VIII to XV. 

(Reference also for Chapters XI and XII of this book.) 



CHAPTER XI 

THE IDEATIONAL PROCESSES: IMAGINATION 

In the discussion of sense-perception, and more especially 
in that of association and memory, reference was made to 
a feature of our conscious lives which is ever present, 
namely, that of having images or representations of our 
sense experiences. Sensations and sense-perceptions come 
into consciousness owing to stimulations of the end organs 
of sense. The perception, however, is, as we have seen, 
largely made up of images of past sensations which fuse 
with the present sensations. A memory is not a sensed 
or presented experience, but is imaged. So are the ideas 
referred to in the term " association of ideas. " 

This imaging, or having over again in this peculiar way, 
of sense experience, is, as far as the nervous basis of it is 
concerned, an affair of central stimulation rather than of 
the sense organs. The stimuli which play upon the sense 
organs make, as we have seen, a decided modification of 
brain tissue. The sensations, which are the reports in con- 
sciousness of these stimuli, pass away ; but the brain cells, 
being plastic, in some way retain the tendency to act in 
this way again. When, now, these sensory cells, or higher 
groups of cells connected with them, or both it may be, — 
the exact cells concerned not being surely made out, — act 
from some stimulus within the brain itself, the result in 
consciousness is an image, the counterpart of the former 
sensation. The experience of imaging, or the having of 

211 



212 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

images, might be called memory, as has already been pointed 
out in the previous chapter. It is better, however, to re- 
serve that term for memory proper, which was defined as 
the living over again in our consciousness of a past event 
or experience, accompanied with the consciousness that we 
have experienced it before. Images of past experiences fill 
to a great extent the stream of consciousness, and it is 
these which are the items associated in the process called 
the association of ideas. In perception they were generally 
referred to as memory images, though they were not neces- 
sarily, in the strict sense, memories. 

Definition. This general imaging or representing func- 
tion of the mind may be called imagination. It is the con- 
sciousness of objects which are not now stimulating the 
organs of sense. Imagination is, in this way, as was ex- 
plained at the beginning of Chapter X, a very large, inclu- 
sive term, embracing what we call memory, association of 
ideas, and even conception and reasoning, as well as imagi- 
nation in its popular use. Each of these has, however, some 
specific feature which calls for separate discussion. Imagi- 
nation in its generic sense is simply the having of images. 
In our popular use of the word there is a narrower mean- 
ing, wherein imagination is contrasted with memory. In 
daydreaming, in building air castles, and in making plans, 
we use imagination of the narrow sort. So the poet in his 
fancy, the artist in dreaming out his ideals, the composer in 
his musical production, and even the scientist in suggest- 
ing his new hypothesis. This particular use of the term 
" imagination " is a valid and useful one. 

In an account of the imagination as a mental process 
both uses of the term must be kept in mind : first, the 
general function of the having of images ; and second, the 
particular one of having images which are not consciously 



IDEATIONAL PEOCESSES : IMAGINATION 213 

memories or the reproduction of the facts of experience as 
they were originally presented to consciousness. 

Images being the copies of sensations, it follows that we 
can have no images which have not been at some time, as 
sensations, actually stimulated by objects. Our having of 
images, even what we call the boldest flights of imagination, 
depends upon the sense experiences we have had, and upon 
their making so strong an impression that copies of them 
arise in consciousness. But do we not imagine all sorts of 
things which we have never experienced? No doubt we 
do ; and yet, as we shall see, all these flights of fancy some- 
how have for their raw material very commonplace copies 
of sensations which at one time or another have been ex- 
perienced through the medium of our sense organs. 

The material of imagination. As images are copies of 
sensations, we may have, presumably, as many different 
kinds of images or imagery as we have kinds of sensations. 
We see colors and perceive forms, and may have images 
of color and form ; so with sounds, tastes, smells, pressure 
and touch, heat and cold, etc. We sense what it feels like 
to move, and have copies of this in motor images or im- 
agery. It would seem that all these classes of sensations 
might be on a par so far as their reproduction in imagery 
is concerned ; but an appeal to the reader's own experience 
will confirm what has been pretty well made out by careful 
inquiry, — ■ that it is not at all common or easy to get clear 
images of taste, smell, and temperature, or in fact of any 
sensations except those of sight, hearing, touch, and those 
connected with movement. Taste and smell images are 
certainly not frequent. Most people can bring to miiid 
imagery or images of sights, sounds, and touch and move- 
ment experiences. These are what we call visual, auditory, 
tactual, and motor images. 



214 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

People differ very greatly in this matter of having im- 
agery. Some have a much greater total amount of it than 
others. Some have a flood of rich and exact images of 
colors and forms, — are good visualizers, it is said. Some 
excel in tone images, that is, can represent to themselves 
in a distinct and satisfactory way simple tones, clangs, etc. 
In others, movement and touch images, or perhaps one or 
the other sort, will be quite prominent in their picturing. 
It usually happens that some one of these types of imagery 
is more prominent than any other type. Some people seem 
to have all these classes of images, or at least the majority 
of them, pretty full, rich, and clear. Many more have, as 
was just intimated, some leading type rather full and clear, 
with the other images meager. Still other people have none 
of them very clear, and their imagination is rather poor and 
thin. As it is out of this raw material of images that all 
so-called products of imagination, flights of fancy, etc. are 
made, the imagining power of each person will depend upon 
the type of his imagery and upon his being a good repre- 
sentative of his type. Of course it will depend on other 
things as well, which will appear m the discussion, but at 
any rate, people have decided differences in their elemen- 
tary imaging power. We have now answered the question 
as to the source of the material out of which imaginary 
constructions are made, and we have also spoken of the 
general quality of this material, and of the fact that this 
material differs considerably in different people. 

Function of imagination. The next question which it is 
perhaps natural to ask is this : Why do we imagine, or 
have in consciousness, simple or complex images, or imagi- 
nary products ? The first and most obvious answer, from 
a practical point of view, is that without these images our 
lives could not go on as well as they do, if indeed they 



IDEATIONAL PROCESSES: IMAGINATION 2l5 

could go on at all. We should be tied down to our sen- 
sory-motor habits of reaction, and to whatever advantage 
in living we could derive from getting simply sensations 
and crude sense-perceptions from our immediate environ- 
ment. No doubt these sensory-motor habits are very im- 
portant, and no doubt life could be precariously carried on 
by the aid of sensation groups ; but it is only when Ave 
can have images of what our past experience has been, 
when the copies of our sense experiences stay with us in 
the form of images, that we can act to the greatest advan- 
tage. These images are necessary to the formation of per- 
ceptions. They give meaning to sense stimulation. By them 
we look before and after, and so adjust present action that 
it will fit in to advantage with our whole experience of 
what the world of things and people about us is like. We 
must be able to picture what the condition of the future 
may be and what the present act will mean for the future, 
if we would have our acts of the greatest advantage for our- 
selves and for others. That we have images, or the general 
power of imagination, is a very great need of our lives. 

Second, we have deep-set natural tendencies or prompt- 
ings to use images and to build them up into many complex 
forms. All these general mstinctive tendencies find expres- 
sion in picturing to ourselves those situations which would 
satisfy our impulses. The final expression is, of course, the 
actions to which these imaginings lead us and the conse- 
quent satisfactions which are thus derived. We have im- 
pulsive cravings, we desire, and so we dream. We seek the 
pleasant and avoid the unpleasant. We would become 
famous, would have wealth and power, would gain friends 
and try to please them. Our imaginations are thus spon- 
taneous expressions of our natures. The images get freed 
from the facts of our past experience, this and that feature 



216 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

is taken from its old setting, and there is unrestrained play 
of fancy. This free picturmg gives us a chance to build up 
all sorts of imaginary products prompted by our instinctive 
cravings. These cravings may answer to such instincts and 
emotions as fear, revenge, love, sympathy. They may even 
take those forms prompted by the deep-set love of the nor- 
mal human bemg for the good in conduct and character, for 
the beautiful in its many forms of expression, and for the 
finding out of truth. We are thus prompted by our natures 
to leap beyond the bounds of the present, and to make 
for ourselves representations of ideal realms. These images 
themselves, in a measure, satisfy, and lead to still further 
satisfaction in conduct. In answer to the question, then, 
why we imagine, we may say (1) because images enable 
us to carry on our lives m much more advantageous ways 
than would be the case without the aid of imagery; and 
(2) because we simply cannot help domg so, there being 
within us deep-set impulsive tendencies which find in 
great measure their adequate and satisfactory expression 
in images. 

Early exhibition. Professor Major, m his book already 
quoted from, has some interesting observations on the de- 
velopment and use of imagination in children. "In his 
eighteenth month R. would pat on the floor with his hand 
and cry ' dee ' when he wanted an article placed on the floor 
where he could get hold of it. . . . In the thirty -first month 
the child frequently imagined huge O's which he wanted 
me to draw for him, expressing his desire for the big O by 
stretchmg his arms far apart and above his head. . . . Dur- 
ing a rainstorm, in R.'s nineteenth month, he went about 
the room closing the inside shutters, to keep out the 
ram as he supposed. . . . On the second day of the month 
(the twenty-fifth) I gave him (R.) a rag doll, made by 



IDEATIONAL PPvOCESSES: IMAGINATION 217 

tying a knot in one corner of a handkerchief, which he 
laid in a baby crib and tlien began to beg for a bottle so 
he could feed the doll," 

Major also quotes the following bit of appreciative writ- 
ing concerning imagination iii childhood : " There sits a lit- 
tle charming master of three years before his small table, 
busied for a whole hour in a fanciful game with shells. He 
has tliree so-called snakeheads in his domain, a large one 
and two smaller ones; this means two calves and a cow. 
In a tiny dish the little farmer has put all kinds of petals ; 
this is the fodder for his numerous and fine cattle. . . . 
When the play has lasted a time the fodder dish transforms 
itself mto a heavy wagon with hay; the little shells now 
become little horses, and are put to the shafts to pull the 
terrible load." 

Forms of imagination. The next topic to concern us, 
suggested by the previous one, is the forms which the im- 
agination takes. There is a common classification of imag- 
inative processes which it will be of some use to follow, — 
that into passive or reproductive, and active or productive. 
Passive imagination consists of the free and unguided play of 
imagery along chance lines of association, while active imagi- 
nation consists of that play of imagery which is, in a measure, 
guided by the direction of attention. The terms "passive" 
and "active" are not altogether happy ones, for in one way 
the passive imagination is as lively, or active in that sense, 
as is the active imagination. In fact it is often the case that 
the play of images is of the liveliest possible sort when the 
imaging is passive, while active imaging under direction may 
be comparatively slow and inactive. Of course, too, the terms 
"productive" and "reproductive" must be used guardedly. 
In one sense all imagining is reproductive, in that it must all 
be a copying of sense experience ; in another sense it might 



218 AN mTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

be said that all imaging is productive. Not that anything 
is created by the imagination, but that all imaginmgs are 
more or less modified copies, in some combination or other, 
of former sense experiences. However, there is a distinction 
between the free, passive, uncontrolled reproduction of im- 
ages along chance lines of association, on the one hand, and 
the more controlled, actively attended to, intended produc- 
tion of new combinations of images on the other. 

Those states of mind called daydreaming, reverie, etc. 
might be cited as examples of the passive imagination. 
Here there is no attempt to control the imagery, but its 
course is determined by our associations and by the chance 
and accidental promptings of the moment. We give our- 
selves to our chance interests ; our fancy takes its varied 
flights, and its fantastic or humdrum course seems to be 
undirected by us. This is a very well-defined form of im- 
agming, and in that we seem passive and involuntary in 
the experience, it is well enough named passive, even 
though it may be, as was said above, of a very lively or 
active sort. It should not be forgotten here that all the 
material for these fancies has been derived from our sense 
experience in the past. Even when new combinations are 
arrived at, the simple material is not new. Here, as in the 
active sort, imagination does not build with its own cre- 
ations ; its varied structures, old and new, are built of the 
material furnished by sense. 

No hard and fast line can be drawn between the passive 
and the active imagination. There are imaginary construc- 
tions which it would be hard to classify as either. There 
is a gradual transition from the one to the other. In so 
far as the play of images is controlled by us, in so far as 
ends or purj^oses are set up towards which the imagery 
is directed, — in so far the imagination becomes of the 



IDEATIONAL PEOCESSES: IMAGINATION 219 

active, productive, constructive sort. When a state of con- 
sciousness consists mainly of a play of imagery controlled 
and directed by the attention to some end or purpose, we 
call that conscious state one of active imagination. 

Varieties of constructive imagination. There are three 
main phases of the active, productive, or constructive im- 
agination, according to the nature of the ideal set up for 
realization and the consequent form of the imagery. These 
phases gje the eesthetic, the scientific, and the practical. 
These correspond to the general ideals of the beautiful, 
the true, and the good and useful, and have corresponding 
sentiments, as we shall later see. 

The active imagmation as aesthetic, while more or less 
present in the conscious states of all people, is seen in its 
fullest exercise in the minds of those whom we call artists. 
The poet in picturing to his mind scenes and incidents, and 
their expression in beautiful forms of words ; the novelist 
and the dramatist in their delineation of motive and char- 
acter and their representations with due regard to form of 
places and people ; the composer in his dreaming out of 
melodies and harmonies and symphonies, hearing them 
where there is no sound ; the painter and the sculptor who 
present on canvas and in marble their images, beautiful in 
suggestion ; the architect who pictures in his mind the build- 
ing to be, in all its noble strength and beauty, — all these 
exercise in their art what we call the aesthetic imagination. 

The active imagination as scientific is of the greatest use 
in the search for -knowledge. This is present in all minds 
to a greater or less extent, but is seen in its fullest expres- 
sion in the scientist in finding out new truths concerning 
the world of people and things. He must make guesses, 
must frame hypotheses, must picture to himself how this 
and that would behave ; he must, in. other words, use his 



220 A'^ INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

imagination freely, if he would wrest answers to his questions 
from nature. It is not enough that he should observe and 
remember ; he must in a sense get away from his facts, and 
advance by means of his freed imagery. The same may be 
said to hold true of the inventor. He must be able to pic- 
ture to himself the ways in which natural forces would 
behave under certain circumstances, and must image to 
himself ever new circumstances and combinations of his 
materials. His imagination must be lively and active and 
of the scientific type, as well as of the next type which we 
shall describe, — the practical. 

The active imagination as practical is in constant exer- 
cise in most minds. The boy in his play is constantly pic- 
turing out to himself new things to do, and how he and 
his playmates may do them. The politician who would 
succeed must be able to picture to himself situations and 
conditions : how this man can be influenced, what will appeal 
to another, where appeals must be made to good judgment 
and sound morals, where perhaps bribes will be the easiest 
and most effective means, — all these, and a thousand other 
considerations and pictures of men and circumstances, must 
he revolve in his mind in order that he may act to advan- 
tage in furthering his plans. The " boss " needs a great 
imagination. The merchant must be able to image to him- 
self the conditions which will prevail during his next year's 
business, — what articles Avill be most called for, whose help 
he can rely on for financial assistance, the best ways to 
display his wares, novel methods of appeal to customers, 
etc. The most practical person is thus called upon to use 
his imagination to a great extent, and his success will 
depend, among other things, on his imagery. Of course, in 
all these cases of the working of the practical imagination, 
as in that of the aisthetic and scientific as well, the mere 



IDEATIONAL PEOCESSES : IMAGINATION 221 

presence of an abundance of imagery will not in any way 
guarantee the ends desired. We are merely insisting here 
on the fact that the imagination is in very lively exercise 
in all these natural activities of people in everyday life. 

Imagination and thinking. Just as there is no hard and 
fast line to be drawn between the imagination as passive 
and as active, so there is no absolute distinction between 
the active imagination and what we call thinking or reason- 
ing. Especially in the scientific and in the practical imagi- 
native constructions reason is extremely active. We must 
think and reason by the aid of images. In this description 
of the imagination stress has been laid on the fact of the 
presence and flow of imagery ; in thinking and reasoning 
stress is laid on the meaning of the imagery. The same 
mental state might, then, be called active imagination and 
also reasoning, according to the feature of the case it was 
most desired to point out. When we speak of image or 
imaging we are thinking of the image just as it is, for its 
ov>^n sake. When we speak of concept or idea the reference 
is to the meaning of the image or its bearing on the discus- 
sion in hand. The terms "image" and "idea" are often used 
interchangeably. The image becomes an idea when it is 
regarded as a symbol of some further meaning. In thinking 
we operate with images as ideas, as will appear in the next 
chapter. In reasoning there is a movement of the ideas 
with respect to some end or goal set up as the purpose of 
the reasoning, such as the solution of a problem. In this 
we see agam a very close connection between reasoning and 
active imagination. 

Relation of imagination to memory and association. It is 
already clear that the imaging carried on by the mind is 
not a direct copy of the mind's sense experiences, in the 
sense of being a faithful reproduction of them with the 



222 AK INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

same old scenes introduced, in the same order, etc. Only 
the bits of experience, larger or smaller, are copied, and 
these for the most part appear in imagination in new con- 
structions. In that part of the general imaging power of 
the mind called memory, we are supposed to have these 
copies in full, reproduced exactly as they took place in 
sense experience. It is not merely a memory or imaging 
of bits of experience that is supposed to take place, but 
a reinstatement of whole situations, with no piecing out. 

Many times when we are recollecting a set of circum- 
stances and relating them, we are conscious of gaps where- 
we cannot remember the items exactly. We cannot call to 
mind with full recognition every feature of the case. In 
such instances our imagination fills in the gap with images 
borrowed from other connections. We feel that it was 
probably that way. If we wish to be very careful in our 
testimony we explicitly note the gaps and speak of them or 
of our imaginary fillings. If there is no call to be so care- 
ful, we often, without misrepresentation, relate the whole as 
memory. What takes place thus in many cases consciously, 
takes place in other cases unconsciously. So strong is 
the imaging tendency of the mind that we make the tale 
of memory complete by appropriately filling in the gaps 
with part images. These piecings fit in so well that they 
partake of the general recognition of the whole memory. 
There is thus much of what we call imagination in the 
narrower sense, or simple imaging, in that especial recog- 
nitive form of imaging which we call memory. It must 
be remembered, too, that memories are never complete 
reproductions of past experiences, but partial, on account 
of the play of the interest and attention at the time of 
perception, and the interest predominant at the time of 
revival. 



IDEATIONAL PEOCESSES : IMAGINATION 223 

Memory depends, as we have seen, upon the association 
of ideas or images. But trains of imagery, not of the nature 
of memories, are also but successive associations of ideas. 
The question naturally arises, why are not our trains of 
imagery bound down in their appearance to the more com- 
monplace behavior of memories, since both depend on the 
laws of the association of ideas, and these in turn rest upon 
so stable an affah' as the habit of the brain centers. One 
might think that if the general power of imaging as seen 
in memory, in imagination, and in the trains of association, 
is dependent on brain habit, our associated ideas would be 
more complete, our memories entire copies of events as 
they happened, and our imaginations likewise but memory 
groups with no chance for variation. 

It was found that in obtaining our sense experience, the 
mind does not receive, or at least attend to, more than a 
small fractional part of the possible impressions which may 
play upon the sense organs at any one time. Our percep- 
tions, therefore, do not give us entire presentations of 
events as they happen in our environment, but only those 
portions which attract our attention and impress themselves 
upon us. Now these perception experiences make in some 
cases but a slight impression on the brain centers, while in 
other cases the impression is intense enough to be retained. 
The impressions thus fade in part and remain in part, and 
we are left with parts of experiences, many of which may 
be so isolated that they cannot be, when reproduced, recog- 
nitive memories. They thus become mere images. Not 
only is this true in the case of involuntary attention, but 
many sense-perceptions are attended to actively in parts, 
and thus there is a breaking up of the experience. We 
thus get more free images, which are in a way representa- 
tions of our sense experiences but are not memories in the 



224 AN INTKODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

sense of being recognized. Now when ideas and images 
are called up at any time according to the laws of associa- 
tion, based on neural habit, we get in some cases very full 
memories of past events, more partial or inadequate mem- 
ories of other events, or we get, perhaps, series of images 
that have been, in the wear and tear of experience, freed 
from their original contexts in perception. 

These free images, completely dissevered from their con- 
texts, and other images selected by the attention from real 
memories, constitute the material for the work of the mind 
in forming its various imaginative products. There may, 
then, be free and uncontrolled play of imagery of the passive 
or reproductive sort according to the mood and interest of 
the moment. Or there may be the controlled play of images 
which we have in the active or productive imagination 
process, — controlled, that is, by the interests of the time 
and the end in view in the imaging. There is no reason to 
suppose that in either case the. play of images and ideas is 
away from the control of the general laws of association. 
These laws rather make these forms of imagination possible, 
as well as in other cases providing for genuine memories. 

The culture of the imagination. Popular sjDcech is apt to 
be misleadmg when it makes use of such expressions as 
"the imagmation" and "the power of imagination." These 
plirases are m keepmg with a view of the mind no longer 
tenable. They are but abstract ways of speakmg of the con- 
crete images and of the mmd's functioning in the way of 
imaging. Scientifically it would be better to speak of the 
development and trainmg of imagery than of the culture of 
the imagmation. When the more popular phrases are used 
they should be mterpretecl m terms of the concrete images, 
the actual conscious processes. The power of imagination 
is, as has been pomted out, a natural endowment. Its 



IDEATIONAL PEOCESSES : IMAGINATION 225 

proper training consists neither in developing it at the 
expense of other powers, nor in repressing it. Its proper 
place in the developing mind should be kept in view, and 
also the part it plays in the educated adult mind. Like all 
natural tendencies it should be allowed to develop, and 
that development should be given every opportunity to 
take place in a wholesome and useful way. The very fact 
that the imagination plays such a part in the lives of young 
children indicates that it has a oreat meaning' for the child's 
development. Its different stages or ways of development 
represent different stages or processes in the growth of the 
child's total life, his ideas, his interests, his acts. The stage 
of seeming utter confusion with fact, of playing with dolls, 
of fairy tales, of hero tales, of dreams of even fantastic 
achievement, — all these have their places, and, if well-used, 
encouraged, and trained, mean great things for the child's 
life at the time and for his more developed career. 

The sources of images. It has already been made clear 
that all images must originally come to the mmd by means 
of the sense organs. In order that there may be an abun- 
dance of images, there must be an interested and extensive 
experience with the world of objects. This has been msistecl 
on sufficiently in discussing observation. What is valuable 
for the one is valuable for the other. The abundance and 
exactness of observations will live in the mind as the 
abundance and exactness of images. To have many images, 
and these of an exact sort, is to give the imagination a 
chance for its normal growth. It is not only in the direct 
perception of objects, however, that imagmative material 
may be derived, though all images must directly or indi- 
rectly be derived from sense. By all the ways of getting 
information, by reading, study, etc., images may spring up 
in the mind that may be of as great use as those directly 



226 AN INTEODUCTOKY PSYCHOLOGY 

derived by observation. Images that may have great use 
in all the ways of thought and action may come from un- 
expected sources. Observation of things and people, read- 
ing about people and their doings, about things and their 
properties, in literature, history, biograj)hy, geography, the 
natural sciences, — all such ways of gaining knowledge in 
an interested and attentive way increase the material out 
of which the imagination may build its constructions. 

Development of imagination by use. The power of imag- 
ing is not exceptional in that it develops by use. The abil- 
ity to see objects no longer present to sense may gradually 
become greater as they are, time and time again, imaged 
by the mind, as to color, form, number, position, etc. So 
with respect to tones and other images. No doubt, as was 
pointed out above, people differ in their natural abilities 
along these lines ; but any one may, by using, for example, 
what visualizing power he has, develop the clearness of his 
images to a great extent. Continual practice may thus 
not only give greater exactness to one's elementary images, 
but may also increase their number, and thus provide for 
a richer development of the life of imagination in its more 
complex forms. 

It is not only in the matter of obtaining elementary 
images that the teacher may be of assistance to the pupil ; 
the processes of constructive imagery may be assisted and 
encouraged. Here, too, the royal road is along the lines of 
practice. 

Nowhere is this more clearly seen than in the case of the 
work in composition, either oral or written. There is first 
the word or language side of the exercise. A word imagery 
for speaking or writing, that is ready, versatile, and accurate, 
is a most valuable possession. This cannot be obtained 
merely by reading and listening, though these are necessary. 



IDEATIONAL PROCESSES: IMAGINATION 227 

It is by constant use, by continued and varied practice, that 
these forms of imagery are developed in a constructive, 
effective way. Constant expression in speech and writing 
is not second -in importance to acquaintance with tlie speech 
and writmg of others for the formation of a free, varied, 
and effective word imagery. Suitable criticism and encour- 
agement here find a rich reward in the proper development 
of the pupil's powers. 

But the proper development of word imagery is only 
one side of the case in such exercises. The hearing and 
reading of fairy tales, mythological accounts, hero and 
adventure stories, and descriptions and sesthetic apprecia- 
tions of objects of nature, naturally lead the child to make 
such tales and descriptions for himself. Some children 
are much more imaginative than others, especially in these 
matters, but all take to it m a measure under the proper 
encouragement. Some may show more aesthetic appreciation 
of nature than others; some may find an especial interest 
in working out suggestions started by close observation of 
some work of art ; some in heroic and even fantastic deeds 
of men and women, boys and girls, fairies and angels ; some 
in descriptions of things around them ; some in simple eth- 
ical and social relations, assistance in the time of need, and 
the like ; some m matters of very practical account ; some 
in several of these interwoven. In speech or in writing 
these matters may be set forth. Constant practice in such 
ways will lead to a development along the lines of knowl- 
edge, aesthetic appreciation, and practical endeavor, that 
could probably not be reached by any other means. 

The cultivation of the imagination may thus reach out 
to all the conscious activities of the child. In great measure 
it may be correlated with the development of word imagery 
in speech and writing, as has just been pointed out. There 



228 A^ mTPvODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

are, however, other ways of expression besides these which 
may be used to advantage. In drawing, color work, in tlie 
various ways of construction in manual training, in conduct 
and in feeling attitudes toward others, still further scope 
is given. We are speaking here of the ways of develop- 
ment of the imaginative powers which may be largely con- 
trolled by the teacher, and where results may be seen and 
estimated. The imagination of the child is, however, con- 
stantly at work in regions which are more or less beyond the 
reach of teachers and parents, in ways which cannot well 
be controlled nor the results estimated. In such ranges of 
the child's life he is quite alone, and the teacher can only 
be of use in an indirect way, in the providing of books, 
pictures, toys, and machines, and in example and sugges- 
tions, criticism and praise. 

Appreciation and action as results of development of im- 
agery. In the culture of the active imagination two features 
of the result may be kept in mind. The first is that of appre- 
ciation. If the child is developing along imaginative lines, 
whatever he sees, hears, and reads about, will mean much 
more to him than if he does not so develop. He will have 
an abundance of free images with which he may interpret 
what he comes in contact with. Pie may indeed misinter- 
pret, or put more into a situation than it will bear, but 
he will not err on the side of noninterested stolidity. He 
will read his history, biography, and literature with more 
readiness and sympathy. He will see more in the behavior 
of the things around him, natural objects, machinery, and 
mechanical processes. The doings of people in his environ- 
ment will be full of suggestiveness. He will have greater 
understanding of and finer feeling for the beautiful in na- 
ture and art than if his imaginative powers were dormant. 
In all these ways of appreciation the life of the child will 



IDEATIONAL PROCESSES: IMAGIKATIOK 229 

develop. There may be need of revision, or even of fuller 
growth of these appreciations, but this will come in time. 

The second and even more important feature of the 
result may be called that of action. Here the use of the im- 
agination and its cultivation is perhaps more apparent. It 
is decidedly useful, though its complete use can only be 
seen when the development of the sentiments, and espe- 
cially of thought and action, are taken into the account. 
Take the imagination as scientific. Here the child's imagi- 
native pictures are his guesses, his hypotheses as to what 
is the real nature of things. These make for him a lever 
with which to pry open nature's secrets. They tell him 
what to look for. They give point to his inquiry. With- 
out these he is not very curious, or his curiosity is a very 
vague affair. He imagines, he tests, and finds out. What 
more does the great scientist do ? The play of images and 
what these imaginings lead to are of a piece in the child and 
in the investigator. The teacher's task is, as is well enough 
known, not so much the supplying of information, as it is 
the prompting toward inquiry. This is the work of the imagi- 
nation ; and the child's knowledge grows as he is driven 
on to make liis inquiries and to test his imaginative guesses. 
In aesthetic lines the appreciative phase of the result of the 
cultivation of the imagination may be more apparent than 
the active ; but even here, whatever the child comes to do 
in an artistic way is made possible in great measure by his 
imaginative development. 

In the life of action along practical lines the results of 
the development of the imagination are everywhere appar- 
ent. By means of his images he enters into practical rela- 
tions with people and things. He may make mistakes in 
these activities, but he is prepared to substitute other ways 
of behavior to correct the first. He dreams, he plans, he 



230 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

tries his plans, and, in so far as he dreams aright, he suc- 
ceeds. Without his dreams he would be the slave of me- 
chanical habit, and no real progress would be possible for 
him. As this is true in his more practical affairs, so it is 
true of his social and civic activities. New meanings, bear- 
ings, and possibilities are suggested to him. Perhaps nme 
out of ten of his dreams will not work, but the tenth may 
bring to him a measure of success impossible, except by 
accident, to the unimaginative man. In the higher ranges 
of his practical life which we call moral, his ideals of con- 
duct, his sympathies, his thoughts of personal and social 
reform are made possible by means of an active, well- 
trained imagination. These images give him his sugges- 
tions, his material to work upon, his hypotheses to be 
tested by his further life activities. 

As was brought out in the discussion of the association 
of ideas, material — images of a rich and varied sort — 
is a necessity for the further development of the life of 
thought and action. This suggests two features of the case 
which should not be lost sight of. The first is that the life 
of imagination is not itself the highest development of 
mind. A rich and well-developed imagery is essential, but 
chiefly as means, not as end. Imagery must be tested and 
made subservient to the life of thought and reason. How 
this is done will appear later. Imagery makes possible a 
life of action, not of the mechanical, routine type, but of 
the genuinely progressive sort. Simply to have images is 
not the main purpose of the life of imagination, but to have 
such an abundance of images of the right sort and so 
arranged that the further life of thought and action may 
be best developed by their means is the important feature 
in the case, although its significance is sometimes over- 
looked. 



IDEATIONAL PROCESSES: IMAGINATION 231 

The second feature suggested is that there may be a hixu- 
riant development of the hnagination which is thought of 
as entirely an end in itself. This is overdoing a good mat- 
ter. In this case the individual lives in an imaginary world, 
is satisfied with imagery simply for its own sake, and loses 
sight of the proper employment of images. The child's 
imagination should be encouraged, but it should also be 
cultivated and used so that it may come to real fruitage 
m the life of the boy and man. It is not enough that it 
should be merely in continual flower of purely imaginative 
forms. This would be abnormal. It takes its place in the 
normal life when it is healthy and strong, when it satisfies 
the soul with its forms, and when it makes possible the 
attainment of truth by means of thinking, and helps to 
achieve ends that are good and useful in the active endeav- 
ors of men. These matters will be brought out further in 
later chapters. 

REFEEENCES 

KoYCE. Outlines of Psychology, Chapter VI. 

Thorndike. Elements of Psychology, Section 9. 

Sully. The Human Mind, Vol. I, pp. 278-294. 

Halleck. Education of the Central Nervous System, Chapter IX. 

Seashore : Elementary Experiments in Psychology, Chapter IX. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE IDEATIONAL PROCESSES: CONCEPTION AND 
THOUGHT 

The story of the miiid as a knowing agent is not com- 
pleted with the account of sensation, perception, memory, 
imagination, attention, and association. In addition to these 
and in conjunction with them there is involved conception 
and the process of thinking. This further activity of the 
cognitive mental processes is usually discussed under the 
three topics, conception, judgment, and reasoning. This 
division is somewhat arbitrary, as will appear in the dis- 
cussion, but it will suffice for a starting point. 

The concept. In attempting to understand the psychology 
of the concept or conception, two questions may be asked. 
The first one is. What is the nature of the concept as a 
mental experience ? The second one is. How does the con- 
cept originate and develop ? When these questions have 
been answered it will remain to inquire as to the relation 
between the concept and judgment, and as to the use of 
the concept in the reasoning process. 

One may have a perception of the house at which he is 
looking, and afterwards may have a memory of it, — that is, 
a memory image corresponding to his perception. He may 
have associated this house in his mind with the other houses 
adjoining it. A builder may plan a house and have it defi- 
nitely in his mind in imagination before the house is con- 
structed. These are all concrete experiences of individual 
houses. What do we have in mind when we refer to house 

232 



CONCEPTIOlSf AND THOUGHT 233 

in general ; when we think or speak, not of any house in par- 
ticular, but of the general notion or concept " house " ? Or 
take any other general term, such as horse, tree, or triangle. 
These words represent general notions or concepts. What 
are the mental experiences corresponding to them, and how 
do such experiences differ from perceptions, memories, or 
imaginations of individual concrete things ? 

The symbolic imagery and the meaning. It is not likely 
that introspection would reveal in any two minds exactly 
the same unage or set of images corresponding to any one 
of these general notions. For one person, as we found to be 
the case m memory and imagination, the outlines and color 
would be very much more definite than for another. Again, 
for one person a certain more or less definite image might 
persist in the mind, while for another this image might 
change more or less quickly and there would be a succes- 
sion of images. For example, in using the general term 
triangle, one might have m mmd a certain triangle as it 
would look on the blackboard, or one might have a succes- 
sion of triangle images of many shapes and sizes, on the 
blackboard, in a book, or elsewhere. The term " horse " 
might, when used of this class of animals, suggest to one 
person a definite image of a large bay horse ; while another 
might have flit tln-ough his mind many images, more or less 
definite, of horses of different colors and of different sizes. 
And so with respect to the general notion of house, tree, or 
any other thmg. The imagery, then, connected with the use 
of the general notion is quite variable. It may not be the 
same in any two minds, and may differ in the mind of the 
same person at different times. The truth of this statement 
any student or class may easily make test of. The explana- 
tion of the variations in the different individuals may readily 
be accounted for according to the principles of association. 



234 AN INTEODUCTOKY iPSYCHOLOGY 

But is there nothing more to the concept than this vari- 
able imagery ? If not, the concept is nothing but a memory 
image, imagination, or associated group of images. Though 
the imagery is variable and of the sort described above, it 
may be said that we all mean practically the same thing 
by the general notions horse, house, tree, or triangle. That 
is, any general notion has practically the same qualities for 
us all if we are tolerably familiar with the class of objects 
concerned. And further, this variable imagery stands quite 
as well in one case as in another for those qualities which 
the general notion contains. The individual image of house, 
more or less definite in the mind, has a reference beyond 
itself to all that " house " may stand for in the way of house 
experience. It is a place to go into, a place in which to live, 
a place to see friends, a place to eat and sleep, etc. These 
meanings are largely, then, in terms of action, so that prac- 
tically the. concept is composed of the chance house imag- 
ing which may be in the mind, and thoughts about actions 
which belong with that kind of thing. 

Two features of the concept must, then, be distinguished, 
— the psychological imagery or the symbol, and that for 
which the imagery or symbol stands, namely the qualities or 
meaning of the general class notion, which is largely in terms 
of possibilities of various activities. In experiencing this im- 
agery as indicating the concept, we have a feeling that any 
other imagery of a similar sort Avould have done just as well. 
That the proper meaning should be in mind is the important 
thing, — important, that is, for our practical purposes. 

The concept or general notion, then, differs from mem- 
ory images or imaginations not so much on account of the 
imagery in the conscious content, as in its further reference 
to the meaning suggested by the symbolic imagery. In using 
the concept in thinking, as we shall see more fully later, we 



CONCEPTION AND THOUGHT 235 

are not conscious of all the qualities for which the symbolic 
imagery may stand ; but that quality or set of qualities is 
prominent which suits the practical necessity of the moment. 

In connection with this imagery the consciousness of the 
word by which we indicate the concept occupies a more or 
less important place. This place will be more prominent 
with some than with others. Some will have an idea of its 
sound when spoken, others an image of how it looks when 
printed or written. In our more abstract ideas, such as 
truth, justice, or beauty, the word usually occupies a com- 
paratively prominent place with respect to the rest of the 
imagery. It is decidedly more pronounced here than in such 
cases as the ones mentioned earlier, — horse, house, tree, 
etc. In fact, in the most abstract concepts it may be in some 
cases the only image present to the mind. 

In answer to the question, then, as to the nature of the 
concept as a mental experience, it has been found : 

1. That the concept consists of two parts, — the symbolic 
imagery and the qualities or meaning for which this sym- 
bolic imagery stands. * 

2. That the meaning of the concept is the thing of great- 
est importance, and that this is practically the same m each 
especial connection for those who are fairly familiar with 
the class of objects to which the term refers. 

3. That the symbolic imagery may be more or less definite, 
more or less changing, and very different for different people. 

4. That the general idea differs from a particular memory 
or associated group of images in that the general idea has 
a general rather than a concrete individual reference. 

5. That the image of the written or spoken word is usu- 
ally present as a part of the symbolic imagery, and becomes 
practically the sole imagery as the general notion gets more 
and more abstract in its nature. 



236 A-N INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

Origin and growth of concepts. Now that the nature of 
conception as a mental process or experience has been de- 
scribed, the second question must be discussed, namely, 
the origin and development of the concept in mental expe- 
rience. It may be said in general that it grows up out of 
sense experience and memory images ; that it thus depends 
absolutely upon sense experiences for its existence, and that 
it is in a way composed of them. Let us examine how this 
takes place. 

Sense-perceptions, more or less definite, of iridividual 
objects must be first experienced before the mmd develops 
class concepts and becomes aware of them. The child's early 
experience of house, man, tree, are perceptions of indi- 
viduals, more or less definite ; but already, in gettmg these, 
the class notions are sproutmg. Very soon, however, more 
houses, more men, more trees are seen. The different trees 
are not just alike, nor are the houses, nor the men. Yet 
each is called house, man, tree, as the case may be. The 
name becomes in a measure a guide in the development of 
the general notion, and the growth of the concept goes on. 
Instead of saying that perceptions come before concepts 
m experience, it would probably be more correct to say 
that they develop together. Early sense experience, as has 
already been pointed out, develops into definite sensations 
and perceptions. So, too, it might be said that it develops 
into perceptions of individual objects, and into general 
notions. The individual reference — that is, the perception 
— probably becomes definite in consciousness before the 
general notion gets the same degree of definiteness. 

In the first place the mind has a tendency to use its 
earliest important experience in a double way: as a percep- 
tion of the individual, and as a means for understanding 
other similar experiences. That is to say, the mind lets 



CONCEPTION AND THOUGHT 237 

the individual idea stand for a certain kind of experience. 
This early idea is taken and used in the world of action. 
If the idea works successfully wherever tried, there is no 
necessity for its modification. If it leads one into trouble, 
then the new experience modifies the idea, changing it so 
that it will work. It is hi the world of action that early 
experiences become molded into useful concepts. As these 
other experiences come to the mmcl there results a complex 
process of the following sort: the original perception is 
kept in the mmd as a memory image and is unconsciously 
compared with one or more new experiences of similar ob- 
jects, or those gomg by the same name. This experience 
results m a finding of certam features or qualities common 
to all the objects, while other qualities are perhaps found 
but once. The mind is thus, without knowing it, compar- 
mg its varied similar experiences — those objects gomg 
by the same name — with one another. 

While this is gomg on, the attention is drawn more and 
more to the common features, and fails to be attracted by 
the unimportant or infrequent aspects of these experiences. 
The result is an abstraction by the mmcl of those features 
which are frequent and important. 

In this there may be a genuine breakmg up or analysis 
of the different experiences. The attention is drawn to the 
common features and dwells upon them. Others fail to ap- 
pear, and if new ones are somewhat noticed, the attention 
is not drawn very strongly to them, and they do not arise 
frequently enough to be carried along in memory. Experi- 
ences of objects are analyzed by the action of the attention 
as the mmcl proceeds to understand and master them. 

At the same time the synthetic activity of the movement 
of the attention is going on. The mind is getting those 
features of its experiences of objects of a certam sort which 



238 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

are constantly attended to in the perceptions, united or as- 
sociated more firmly. The associating process is constantly 
going on. Thus the features seldom experienced and of 
little importance for the child are gradually dropped. The 
frequent and important ones are fused or associated into 
a unit. The work is one of synthesis of these qualities, 
as well as one of analysis of the concrete experiences as 
they occur. 

Certain aspects of this process of arriving at the concept 
may then be noticed. 

1. There is the tendency of the mind to use an individual 
experience to understand others similar and to stand as 
a symbol of that sort of experience. The child's first sight 
of a church, for example, will be a perception which will 
serve as a basis on which may be built his lastmg concept 
of such a building. 

2. The idea resulting from this first experience bemg tried 
out in practical activity in connection with new similar 
experiences, becomes so modified by this testing and com- 
parison that it will work successfully m actually adjusting 
the psychophysical organism to the conditions of its life. 

3. By means of the attention, the frequent and unpor- 
tant features of similar perception experiences are naturally 
abstracted from the rest. 

4. There is in this concept-forming process a genuine 
analysis of the individual perceptions by means of the play 
of the attention. 

5. There results a synthesis of the frequent and impor- 
tant features of the experiences mto a more or less stably 
associated group, — the concept itself. 

This group of features or qualities — the result of this 
complex mental process — becomes for the individual his 
understanding or meaning of a certain class of experiences 



CONCEPTION AND THOUGHT 239 

commonly going by one name and term. They form the 
meaning of tlie mental concept so far as it is formed. It 
may grow in body, it may be clarified m meaning, by 
further perceptions and more careful discrimination ; but 
the content of the concept will be cletermmed by just these 
concrete experiences of the mdividual and by the mind 
working them up in the ways above mentioned. 

The imagery which the individual will have m miiid as 
the symbol of the concept will depend upon many more or 
less accidental circumstances. The mental imagery may 
be a sort of composite photograph of a great many of the 
experiences out of which the meaning of the concept has 
been drawn. Whether this ever actually occurs or not is a 
matter of doubt. What is called such a composite image 
may be but a blurred, not well-visualized memory image 
of' some individual experience. No doubt the first percep- 
tion will sometimes persist as a fairly definite image through 
many experiences, and will continue to be the actual sym- 
bol, arismg m mind when that class of objects is referred 
to. Very strikmg, important, or interestmg perceptions Avill 
sometimes so force themselves upon the attention that 
they easily win the position of symbol for all the rest. A 
perception Avliich occurs very frequently will sometimes 
make good its claim to represent its class. Very recent 
experiences will frequently stand as the symbolic imagery 
for a concept, because our memory of them remains bright. 
The name itself, written or spoken, will be a very persist- 
ent feature of the symbolic image, and may stand, as we 
have already seen, in extremely abstract concepts, as the 
greater and perhaps the only part of the symbol. 

The nature of the symbolic imagery standing for the 
meaning of the concept in any case will depend upon many 
circumstances : (1) the tendency, probably, of the mind to 



240 AN INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

make a composite image as a symbol ; (2) the first experi- 
ence of the sort in question ; (3) very striking, important, 
or interesting occurrences of the individual cases ; (4) the 
frequency of the occurrence of one of the class ; (5) the 
recency of the observation. 

Thus does the concept grow up out of individual, con- 
crete perception experiences and their memory images, in 
the double way of the meaning (or contenf) of the general 
notion and of the si/mhoUc imagery which the mmd econom- 
ically uses to stand for that meaning or content. All the 
concepts which are developed in experience and knowl- 
edge go through some such process as that above outlined, 
whether these general notions are simple ones, such as tree, 
man, book, table, dish, or trout, or more abstract in their 
nature, such as time, cause, government, or truth. Concepts 
must be built out of sense experiences, out of or along with 
sense-perceptions of the individual objects. No other way 
seems possible. 

Judgment and its relation to the concept. In understand- 
iug the general nature of the thinking process, the nature 
of judgment as a mental process and its relation to the 
concept must next be explained. It must not be expected, 
however, that judgment is anything radically different 
as mental activity from what has already appeared in our 
discussions. As a mental process it is simply a case of 
attention working in an analytic and a synthetic way with 
its material, the material being largely abstract, — that is 
to say, composed to a great extent of concepts. 

For examples of judgment such simple statements as the 
following may be used : The grass is green. Lead is heavy. 
The heat of the sun melts the snow. Fruit is wholesome. 
Taking the concepts used in the subject terms of the above 
statements, it is easily seen that the predicate terms add 



CONCEPTION AND THOUGHT 241 

nothing new to one's knowledge. In each case the predi- 
cate term is simply one of the features or qualities of the 
concept which the subject term includes. The judgment 
is, then, so far simply a singling out of one of the features 
of the concept. The concept is neither more nor less than 
it was before. One of its features has been pointed out 
clearly, and this it is one of the functions of judgment to 
do. Even when the judgment is a statement of a new item 
of knowledge for the individual making it, and the con- 
cept is enlarged by the further property or quality, it is 
still a case of calling attention to a certain feature, new 
to be sure, of the concept or object concerning which the 
judgment is made. The judgment from this point of view 
differs from the concept only so far as the attention is 
drawn to one of the features of the concept, the fact of 
this feature's belonging to the concept being brought out 
and asserted. This may be called the analytic feature of 
judgment. It is one of the ways of the practical use of the 
concept. 

From another point of view, judgment may be defined 
as the union of two concepts. Taking the examples men- 
tioned above, the judgment makes a synthesis of the con- 
cepts which the subjects and the predicates respectively 
indicate. The mind in judging may be said to work more 
especially in this synthetic way when new features are be- 
ing added to one's knowledge. But strictly speaking, all 
judgments are both analytic and synthetic, the stress of 
attention being now on one aspect, now on the other. 

In judgment we either make explicit the meaning of the 
concept by drawing attention to one of its features, — the 
analytic activity of the attention, — or we consciously add a 
new feature to the concept, or add two concepts together, — 
the synthetic activity of the attention. The concept is thus 



242 A'N mTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

either explained or completed by the judgment, and to do 
this the mind actively attends to its concepts and their 
meaning. 

From the earliest stages of mental life in the child this 
judging power of the mind is in exercise. The earliest dis- 
criminations of consciousness are the beginnings of judg- 
ments. Similar experiences, colors, tastes, sounds, etc. are put 
together, and the consciousness that they belong together 
is really judging. So the further consciousness that certain 
other experiences are unlike — that, for example, this taste 
is agreeable and anotJie?' taste is not — is really a judgment 
in the making. When the conception is being built up out 
of individual sense experiences the attention is always at 
work, as we have seen, in a discriminating way, and we 
constantly judge certain qualities as belonging together. 
The ball with which the child plays is found to behave this 
way and that ; these movements are associated and stated, 
or at least treated, as if belonging together. This is judging. 
So in the matter of finding out the properties of apple, 
house, spoon, etc. Judgment is thus constantly in use in the 
making of the concept, and is at any one time a statement 
that a certain feature belongs to that concept or kmd of 
thing, or that certain qualities belong together. The judg- 
ment and the concept thus grow up together in the con- 
scious life, and it would be as useless as it is difficult to 
say which springs up first. Out of the early, vague sense 
experience of the child there gradually develop into clear- 
ness those mental processes which we call sensations, per- 
cepts, concepts, judgments, etc. The attention is, in its 
ways of analysis and synthesis, assimilation and interpreta- 
tion, ever at work making the various mental processes 
stand out in clearness that they may mean more for knowl- 
edge and as guides to action. 



CONCEPTION AND THOUGHT 243 

Judgment as an analytic mental experience may then be 
described as a concept with the attention drawn explicitly 
to one of its features ; or, synthetically, as the union of this 
singled-out feature or predicate concept with the subject 
concept. This feature is always smgled out for some prac- 
tical purpose of thought or action. The use of this smgling 
out and judging will appear more plainly as we study fur- 
ther the nature of the tlimking process in reasoning. 

The reasoning process. Reasoning is, of course, carried 
on by means of ideas. When we reason, we use memory 
images individual or associated, imaginings, and concepts. 
Judgment is also involved. What is the specific nature of 
reasoning as a mental process ? How does it differ from 
the mere association of ideas ? What is the use of the con- 
cept, imagery, and meanmg in the reasoning process ? Such 
are the psychological questions which ought to be considered. 

The practical nature of reasoning. Reasoning is always 
carried on for some purpose. The answer to the problem in 
arithmetic, the solution of the geometry exercise, — these are 
ends to be thought out. The manager of a political cam- 
paign must so thmk out the situation as to lead, if possible, 
to the success of his candidates. That is the purpose of his 
thought. The botanist examines his specimens and tries 
to think out the laws governing the development of the 
plants. The parents think out the expenses of their family 
so as to get the best results in the way of clothing, food, 
recreation, schooling, etc., and still keep withm their m- 
come. There is a definite purpose m the thinkmg m each 
of these cases. The various items of one's knowledge, per- 
ceptions, memories, groups of associated ideas, concepts in 
any way connected with the subject under consideration, 
and even mterruptions and irrelevant matters may come 
up, but in all this there is a choosing and a using of ideas 



244 AN USTTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

which one hopes will solve the problem that one is inter- 
ested in solving. For there is some interest in the solution, 
no matter of what nature the problem is. One desires more 
or less strongly to get the matter thought out and settled. 
Some importance for the reasoner attaches to each line of 
reasoning. This importance may be very slight or it may 
be a life-and-death matter. The reasoning is carried on for 
a purpose. 

The material used in reasoning. When any problem 
arises that is to be reasoned out and solved, certain ideas 
concerning the problem are already, of course, in the mmd. 
The problem may be with respect to objects which one can 
perceive, as the botanist's specimens ; it may be with respect 
to something remembered or imagmed, as m the case of 
the anxious political manager or the solicitous parents. 
It may be some problem with respect to a concept or set of 
concepts, as in the case of the geometry exercise. Now the 
ideas of the present situation immediately in mind, and the 
ideas, more or less vague, about the purpose of the think- 
ing, will, of course, suggest other ideas according to the 
laws of association. We have, then, perhaps a few, perhaps 
a flood, of associated groups of ideas. We may thus have 
hardly an idea to help on in the thinking, or we may be 
confused with the rush. Our habitual thought associations 
will determine, at first, the trend of our ideas. If the prob- 
lem to be solved is of a familiar sort, the solution may be 
quickly arrived at by some habitual association. For in- 
stance, the solving of a problem in arithmetic with whose 
sort we are extremely familiar, or the expenditure of a week's 
income in the customary week-in and week-out way. Such 
a process could hardly be called reasonmg. But even when 
the problem is a new one, when the solution does not come 
easily and we have to wrestle with it for a long while, we 



CONCEPTION" AND THOUGHT 245 

cannot get away from what we can perceive, remember, im- 
agine, or conceive. The material for our reasoning consists of 
those ideas which come up by association, suggested by our 
present thought of the situation and its problem and of the 
end to be reached. Follow out in thought some such case 
as one of those mentioned m the last section and the truth 
of this statement will be evident. We cannot think or 
reason without ideas, and the possession of these ideas de- 
pends upon our associations with the matter in hand. The 
value of the reasonmg will depend in great measure upon 
the wealth of observations, memories, associations, imagma- 
tions, concepts, which one has, and upon their readiness to 
come to mind when needed. 

Reasoning compared with association. Reasonmg, how- 
ever, is not merely a matter of associated ideas. Many of 
the ideas suggested are useless for the purpose in view. 
These are neglected and the right ones chosen. Much 
so-called thinking or reasonmg is simply a succession of 
associated ideas, memories, imagmations, concrete mental 
pictures. Much conversation goes along such Imes. One 
thing is suggested by another, and the talk goes on with- 
out any especial point or purpose, beyond passing away the 
time. In such reverie and such talk we all mdulge. Often, 
too, when people try to reason or believe they are reason- 
mg, they are simply gomg the rounds of their habitual 
associations, and so solve no new problems and reason out 
no new conclusions. Often pupils m school, in answer to a 
question, will give utterance to some statement suggested by 
the question along the Imes of their mental associations and 
interests. In such a case the teacher often thinks, " That is 
true, of course, but what has it to do with the case ? " 

In order to reason, those ideas must be chosen which 
will be of use. When an idea is presented to the mmd it 



246 AN INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

has to be examined carefully to test its bearing upon the 
point at issue. Will it be a direct step to the end to be 
reached ? Will it bring the solution any nearer ? Without 
this careful weighing and testing of the suggested ideas, 
the mind goes off on many sidetracks and the problem is 
not solved. In working out an exercise in geometry the 
conditions of the problem are set down, and the point to be 
proved clearly set forth. Here the choice of ideas is de- 
cidedly narrowed down. A hundred ideas of many things 
coming possibly to mind at the time are easily dismissed as 
irrelevant. Suppose one is given up to the problem. The 
conditions of the problem and the point to be proved sug- 
gest other ideas and features of problems which have been 
solved by previous work. Yet many blind trails invite one, 
and careful testing is necessary that they may be avoided, 
or abandoned when once chosen. But the promising fea- 
tures of the case are seized upon ; these suggest further 
ideas ; these in turn are tested and sifted, and finally the 
problem is solved. The testing of the suggested ideas, by 
the starting point and by the desired goal, is that which 
is the real difference between reasoning and simple asso- 
ciation. 

The use of the concept in reasoning. In the process of 
testing spoken of in the preceding section, something fur- 
ther is involved, and here comes in the use of the con- 
cept m reasoning. It is not enough to perceive an object, 
or to have called to mind the memory of it, or to call 
up by association other things or people in connection 
with it. Such mental processes are not reasoning. As we 
have seen, there is a definite purpose in reasoning, and any 
object presented in perception or brought up by association 
has to be examined with this end in view. A breeze is com- 
mg in through the open window and disturbs tlie papers on 



CONCEPTION AND THOUGHT 247 

my desk. My eye runs over the objects on the desk and 
an inkwell is espied. That will do to hold the paper down. 
Not much thought is involved in the case, but the essence 
of reasoning is there. The end in view is the holding down 
of the papers. The inkwell is thought of as possessing a 
property — weight — which will serve the purpose. That 
is my present way of looking at or conceiving the inkwell. 
The concept "weight" is the important link in the chain of 
reasoning. Weight is needed to hold down the paper; 
weight is a quality of the inkwell. The testing of perceived 
objects, or of associated ones, in order to see whether or 
not they will solve or help to solve the problem to be rea- 
soned out, is simply a matter of being able to pick out the 
right feature, to find the proper concept, to look at things 
in a fruitful way for our purpose, — in other words, to see 
the point. In order to reason well, one must be keen 
enough to see the point, the concept, the property or fea- 
ture in one of many perceptions or suggested associations 
that will work. Of a complex object which we can perceive, 
remember, or imagine, this feature or property is important 
for one purpose ; that, for another. To use an example 
of James's : " A man is such a complex fact. But out of the 
complexity all that an army commissary picks out as im- 
portant for his purposes is his property of eating so many 
pounds a day ; the general, of marching so many miles ; 
the chairmaker, of having such a shape ; the orator, of 
responding to such and sucli feelings ; the theater-manager, 
of being willing to pay just such a price, and no more, for 
an evening's amusement. Each of these persons singles out 
the particular side of the entire man which has a bearing 
on his concerns, and not till this side is distinctly and 
separately conceived can the proper practical conclusions 
for that reasoner be drawn ; and when they are drawn the 



248 AK INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

man's other attributes may be ignored." This is the use of 
the concept in reasoning. It is used in place of the whole 
object perceived or associated, and is the vital feature 
of the process in solving the problem in hand. In this 
way, we may add to the doctrine of the preceding section, 
does reasoning differ from the mere having of a stream of 
associated ideas. 

Attention and the reasoning process. In Chapter VIII, in 
discussing the nature of attention it was said that, in giv- 
ing attention to a problem, the problem to be solved is the 
general object of the attention, while the particular objects of 
the attention, moment by moment, will be the various fea- 
tures or aspects of the problem as they present themselves. 
It was also said in the same connection that the work of the 
attention was constantly one of analysis and discrimination, 
and also one of making a unit of the analyzed parts, or of 
some of them. These features of attention are decidedly in 
evidence in reasoning. The attention is given to the prob- 
lem and also to the associated ideas which are suggested 
as we think the matter over. This is analysis and discrimi- 
nation of the various associations that come up. There is 
a concentration of the attention on the vital points of the 
progress towards the solution of the problem. The atten- 
tion plays between the associated material offered and the 
end to be reached. The irrelevant material is thrust out of 
the consideration, is neglected by the attention, after exami- 
nation perhaps, and the relevant material, the promising 
objects, and especially such of their properties as can be 
used, are fused together. The solved problem represents 
the synthetic activity of the attention. 

Training and development of the thought processes. 
Training in observation, memory, and imagination is but 
preparatory to the further development of the processes 



CONCEPTION AND THOUGHT 249 

of knowledge iii the activity of thinking, using the term 
" thinking " to indicate conception, judgment, and reasoning. 
The general nature of the thought process in conception, 
judgment, and reasoning, has just been discussed. We must 
now inquire into the nature of whatever training may be 
possible in the development of the art of thinking. 

To what extent can the teacher take into account the 
thmking processes described in this chapter ? How best 
can the processes of conception, judgment, and reasoning 
be utilized and developed ? What part do they play in 
education ? In general, we have it said that people must 
think well in order to understand the subjects of knowledge ; 
and again, that one's training is of little value unless it 
has given one the power to think correctly. We must con- 
sider, then, both the ends to be achieved by school training 
in the matter of conception, judgment, and reasoning, and 
the most efficient means for reaching those ends. 

To take up first the matter of training in connection 
with the forming of concepts. The forming of an adequate 
and accurate body of concepts is one of the chief aims of 
education. When we consider, however, that the purpose 
of knowledge is, from one point of view, effective con- 
duct, and further, that the meaning of concepts is found 
for the most part in terms of possible action, we see that 
this aim of forming an adequate and accurate body of con- 
cepts is but an essential means to an end, — the end being 
defined in terms of conduct. But in any case that education 
is certainly faulty which leaves one with a meager and ill- 
defined set of concepts. In order that one's knowledge may 
be full, accurate, and practical, one's concepts of all fea- 
tures of experience must be of just this sort. In fact, what 
we commonly mean by one's knowledge is one's series of 
concepts. 



250 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

In any subject studied, the great aim from a knowledge 
point of view is the acquirement of adequate and accurate 
concepts in that subject ; for example, in arithmetic, the 
nature of percentage and interest ; in physical geography, 
the meaning of watershed and valley ; in physiology, the 
nature of respiration and digestion ; and so on. What is 
being aimed at in all the school subjects is just the build- 
ing of these general concepts so that they will be true or 
accurate, abundant or adequate for knowledge, and such 
as can be used or applied to the practical affairs of -living. 

We have discussed the general way in which concepts 
are formed. It has been pointed out in several connections 
that our general ideas or concepts must be based upon 
sense experience, observation. By general idea or concept 
we may mean the nature of some quality, such as opaque- 
ness or elasticity ; a general rule of procedure, as the rules 
for pointing off in decimals or for sailing a yacht ; or the 
nature of some class of objects, as a seaport, a cotton plan- 
tation, the printing press, the solar system, a republic, a 
monarchy, etc. We have learned that we must come to these 
general notions or concepts in connection with perceiving, 
noticing, observing individual cases. Out of these observa- 
tions grows the concept. Hence the first care in all study 
is to make wide and accurate observations. 

Definitions and rules that are not understood in terms of 
previous observation of individual cases are simply words 
to be memorized and not material for real knowledge. It is 
a topic for especial method in the various subjects studied 
to point out just what features shall come first and what 
succeed. But if the account given above of the develop- 
ment of concepts is true, the principle of basmg concepts 
and their statement on observation of individual cases 
is a valid one. By one means or another, study of the 



CONCEPTION AND THOUGHT 251 

indiviclnal happenings, objects, etc., is the one sure foun- 
dation for the further development of the general truths 
or concepts. 

While the observation of individual examples is gomg 
on, and afterwards in memory, there results naturally, as 
we have seen, a comparison of the cases. This may take 
place involuntarily, or it may be active intended discrimi- 
nation. Objects which go by the same name are seen to 
possess features in common and features which are unlike. 
Soon there is a distinction made between the regular fea- 
tures and those which vary. Certain features come, as we 
have seen, to stand as the meanmg of the concept. Other 
features are but the chance imagery, the symbol of that 
for which the concept stands. Now, m any active attentive 
study of a topic, this feature of comparing, of gettmg the 
essential features of the thing separated from the nones- 
sential, is of great importance. Wide observation, while a 
necessary foundation, is not sufficient for the formation of 
the concept. The observation must develop in the process 
of comparison ; many examples must be noticed and com- 
pared. When this is carefully done with the object of find- 
ing out the real nature of the matters examined, — that 
is, of discovering their meaning for the purpose of the m- 
vestigation, — the next stage in the process stands out very 
clearly. 

Those features which seem to count, which are the com- 
mon ones while others change, are noticed for themselves, 
are abstracted from the individual cases and set apart by 
themselves as the meanmg of the concept, — the generaliza- 
tion of the cases in hand. This is the general rule, truth, 
concept, or principle, of which the student is in search. He 
wants to know what will work, what the significance is for 
action. This is the real meaning or purport of the cases he 



252 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

has examined. The student is now ready to make a state- 
ment of the general principle, or the meaning of the cases 
as it has developed under his own observation, comparison, 
and abstraction or generalization. 

In such a study of facts leading to a definition, rule, etc., 
it is well to use in great part those individual cases which 
we may call typical or good examples of the principle 
involved. In such instances the meaning stands out clearly, 
and the pupil is not misled into taking chance imagery or 
unimportant details for the main feature. Observation of 
the direct kind, or of the indirect sort of listening to or read- 
ing descriptions which can be understood in connection 
with these striking cases, will lessen decidedly the neces- 
sity of much comparison and will make the abstraction of 
the general truth a comparatively easy matter. 

The next important feature of the development of the 
concept for the sake of knowledge is its testing. Will it, 
after all, fit all the cases ? Is the definition accurate and 
adequate ? Will the principle hold as stated ? Will the 
rule in arithmetic, for example, solve the problems set ? 
The importance of this feature can hardly be overempha- 
sized. Here the truth of the general notion is tried. Its 
nature is more fully understood as it is used. It becomes 
a part of one's real knowledge as it is tested and related to 
the various features of the sort in one's experience. 

This process of the development of the concept by ob- 
servation, comparison, generalization, and application, is, 
in general, the royal road to those accurate, adequate, and 
practical truths to obtain which is a main object of study. 
It is a constant making of inductions and a testing of their 
validity. Any attempts to obtain concepts by any shorter 
road will probably be in vain. Statements of rules and 
general principles which are not understood by the learner 



CONCEPTION AND THOUGHT 253 

may as well not be made. They are often worse than use- 
less, as they are likely to blmcl him to his ignorance. They 
are empty, meaningless affairs. There is no magic m words 
to carry over from teacher or book to student the real mean- 
ing of general truths by their bare statement, when the stu- 
dent has had no adequate observation experience to give 
such statements a filling and a meaning. Let the experi- 
ence come first, and the statement of the general principle, 
definition, rule, etc., will be the next natural step, and will 
be understood. It will become a real part of his mental 
equipment and will be one of his tools for advancing him 
in knowledge and practice. 

We may next take up training and development in con- 
nection with judgments. It was said above that judgment 
may be described in an analytic way as a concept with the 
attention drawn explicitly to one of its features, or in a syn- 
thetic way as adding a new feature to a concept, and that 
this feature is always singled out for some practical pur- 
pose of thought or action. This is done either by specifying 
some well-known feature of the concept or by adding some 
new feature. The development of concepts, then, means 
development of judgments. Knowledge grows, or our con- 
cepts grow, by this process of adding new features, or it 
may be by eliminating from the concept some feature which 
further comparison shows does not really belong there. 
Concepts are thus enlarged and clarified. To make valid 
judgments is of vital importance in the growth of knowl- 
edge, and to increase one's ability to make such judgments 
is one of the main objects of education. This making of 
judgments is an essential part of the individual's mental 
growth. It cannot be done for the student, because the 
truth sought to be conveyed would then be but an exter- 
nal association of words with the topic in hand, and would 



254 AN mTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

not be a vital part of the growth in knowledge. As con- 
cepts grow up in all branches of study and in all parts of 
experience, so judgments are everywhere mvolved; train- 
ing in the making of judgments becomes a means towards 
growth in knowledge, and ability to make such judgments 
grows with exercise. 

Growth in knowledge involves the noticmg and assert- 
ing that certain features in one's perception experience are 
alike, that they are of the same sort or kind. One's discrim- 
ination becomes finer the more it is exercised, so that one 
can detect resemblances and common features even in ob- 
jects and events which at first sight seem far apart. To see 
and assert this likeness is an important feature of judgmg 
and an important factor in the development of concepts 
or general notions. This same attentive discrimination 
leads to the noticmg of differences, — not only obvious ones, 
but also those which are cloaked by seeming likenesses in 
first perception. That certain objects, qualities, or events, 
shall be distinguished and kept apart, that they shall not 
be permitted to enter into the same concept, is an impor- 
tant feature of judging and an important factor in the 
growth of knowledge. That certain qualities belong to- 
gether in a true estimate of one's experience, and that cer- 
tam others do not belong together, is a principle that 
correct judging always brings forward in consciousness. 
To notice and assert that certain qualities belong in the 
concept watershed, relative pronoun, or zinc sulphate, that 
certain other properties do not belong with the qualities of 
each of these, is the judgment in exercise. 
' This process of judging is brought out strongly in the 
comparison phase of the development of the concept. To 
notice and assert this and that relation, — size, shape, dura- 
tion, color, taste, weight, etc., — to discriminate correctly 



CONCEPTION AND THOUGHT 255 

and to assert accordingly, is to make judgments, to enlarge 
and clarify concepts, and to promote the growth of one's 
knowledge. 

There is no subject of study and investigation which 
does not mvolve for its correct learning these constant 
judgment processes. Knowledge thereby becomes accurate 
and complete, and the habit and the ability to judge grows 
with its exercise. There is a mental virility and independ- 
ence about the student taught to judge for himself, which 
other people do not possess. 

There are many dangers in the way of this development 
of valid judgment and the habit of correct judging. Vague- 
ness of sense-perceptions and lack of apprehension of matters 
heard and read vitiate the process at its very beginning. 
To get clear, exact observations is to get the proper mate- 
rial to work upon. These observations must be extensive as 
well as exact, or the judgment will be inadequate and inexact 
for lack of material to work over in the mind. Hasty and 
superficial examination of facts gives no opportunity for 
exact discrimination and careful judging. Deliberateness 
in JLidging should be encouraged. 

Haste goes along with preconceived notions and desires 
as to how the thing should be. Human nature is prone 
to jump at conclusions and to judge in accordance with its 
own interests. The student should be encouraged to be as 
impartial as possible in the matter of judging, in order that 
the higher purposes of knowledge and right action may be 
subserved. The statements of textbooks and the words and 
dicta of teachers and elders may be most valuable in them- 
selves, but their value for any individual pupil consists in 
his own assimilation of them. They may be most harmful, 
if they stand in the way of that real advance in knowledge 
which can be made only by himself. 



256 AN INTRODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

The normal development of knowledge is by means of 
genuine judgments. If subjects of study are carried on in 
this way, the general notions formed will be correct and 
adequate, the habit of independent judgment will be de- 
veloped, and the student will possess a body of knowledge 
and a habit of judgment which will be what is meant by 
the ability to judge. 

The third phase of the thought process, closely con- 
nected with conception and judgment, is that of reasoning. 
The problem presents itself. How can the student be helped 
to think for himself ? And this means, How can he be en- 
couraged to make valid concepts, to judge accurately, and, 
lastly, to reason independently and correctly ? Or, in terms 
of the individual, how can he acquire and develop the habit 
and ability of doing just these things ? 

Reasoning is an inference, or a series of inferences. We 
have seen above in what the essence of reasoning consists. 
Logically, it is the exhibition of the grounds upon which 
the conclusion as a judgment rests. It is the picking out 
of the proper concept or property from a certain object or 
situation that will enable one to conceive that object in a 
new relation to some other object. It is the working over 
of concepts and judgments so that new relations between 
objects or properties are brought out and asserted in a 
further judgment. These general statements perhaps sum 
up what was brought out above as to the nature of rea- 
soning. The practical problem remains. 

The way in which one may attain the desirable ability 
and habit of reasoning independently and correctly, or with 
as much strength, sense, and acumen as his natural consti- 
tution will permit, is, of course, to keep everlastingly at it 
in the struggle to solve whatever problems arise in his own 
situations in life. In the first place, in helping the student, 



CONCEPTION AND THOUGHT 257 

the treatment of subjects in textbooks and the talks and 
explanations of teachers should be as far as possible rea- 
soned accounts. The grounds for statements should be 
made plain in terms of what the student already knows. 
The connecting links in the reasoning should be made plain. 
The right way of conceiving the topic with respect to the 
end desired should be clearly set forth. Such precautions 
will tend to start the student along the line of right rea- 
soning, there will be constant examples before him of right 
method and results, and he will be given material for further 
practice. In the next place, and even of greater impor- 
tance, the statements of pupils should be closely scrutinized 
and challenged, in order that the steps may be taken not 
merely by the way of chance association of ideas but by the 
way of reasoning, or closely observed relations of facts as 
bearing upon the pomt at issue. This demand and correc- 
tion on the part of the teacher and this constant effort on 
the part of the student should give a genume development 
along the lines of well-reasoned knowledge. 

In self -training the way to learn to reason is to reason. 
Constant practice will reveal to one that he must have 
knowledge or ideas for the material of his reasoning. Then 
comes the testing of these ideas for the solution of the prob- 
lem in hand. Both of these features should be understood 
in terms of a definite aim or problem to reach or solve. 
Then comes in the sagacity to pick out just the feature of 
the experience, the concept, which will get one ahead. If 
these features of the thinking operation as described earlier 
in the chapter are understood, there will be an intelligent 
and efficient self -schooling on the part of the energetic stu- 
dent. He will get into the habit of judging and reasoning 
for himself. He will know that there is a difference be- 
tween hearsay and the mere association of ideas on the one 



258 AN mTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

hand, and genuine thinking on the other. He will appre- 
ciate in what the difference consists. It is not the fram- 
ing of a so-called reasoning faculty that should be directly 
aimed at. The value and place of reasoning in knowledge 
and life can be appreciated as a well-defined ideal. The 
reasoning processes may themselves be understood. A body 
of knowledge which has in its acquirement been thoroughly 
reasoned and understood may become the individual's pos- 
session. If the ideal of reasoning is clearly set up and 
deeply appreciated, if the reasoning process is understood, 
if by the toil of days and years a well-knit, well-reasoned 
and extensive body of knowledge along the main lines of 
human interest has been acquired, then will the student 
possess in his measure that much-to-be-desired quality, the 
power of reasoning. 

REFERENCES 

TiiORNDiKE. Elements of Psychology, Sections 11-13, 48, 49. 
Thorndike. Principles of Teaching, Chapter X. 
TiTCHENER. An Outline of Psychology, Sections 82-84. 
James. Psychology, Briefer Course, Cha]pter XXII. 



CHAPTER XIII 

THE COMPLEX AFFECTIVE PROCESSES: EMOTION" 
AND SENTIMENT 

Obvious features of emotion. Those states of mind which 
we call emotions are quite familiar. To mention fear, anger, 
love, or joy, is to call up at once something of the nature 
of these peculiar conscious states. The thought is at once 
suggested that they are essentially of the feeling sort of 
consciousness. The emotion is decidedly affective rather 
than cognitive in its nature. We take certain events or 
situations thus and so, and are affected by them in the way 
of fear, anger, love, or joy. 

Emotions are, as a rule, very intense experiences. We 
are wonderfully stirred by them. We are swamped by their 
power. So intense are they that thought and action may 
be for the moment almost paralyzed, while to think and 
act properly under the circumstances the emotion must be 
brought under some control. 

Again, emotions are natural or instinctive affairs. Our 
make-up is such that under certain circumstances it is prac- 
tically impossible to escape this emotional stirring up. On 
sufficient provocation we are naturally angry, while in other 
circumstances we cannot repress our joy. So instinctive, 
natural, and inevitable are our emotions that we commonly 
speak of them as instincts, — the instinct of fear, the instinct 
of pride, etc. 

Lastly, we may say that emotions are decidedly impul- 
sive or driving in their nature. We naturally express our 

259 



260 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

emotions in certain characteristic ways. The emotions may 
be somewhat repressed, but the nature of emotion is to ex- 
press itself in forcible conduct. 

We may say, then, before we push our inquiry concern- 
ing the nature of the emotions further : (1) that they are 
essentially of the feeling sort of consciousness ; (2) that 
they are very intense experiences ; (3) that they are natural 
or instinctive ways of feelmg and responding under the 
appropriate circumstances ; and (4) that they are impulsive 
in their nature, or tend naturally to forcible expression. 

Emotional situations. People are so constituted that 
when they are suddenly confronted with certain situations 
in perception, memory, or imagination, they undergo that 
state of consciousness which we call emotional ; that is, they 
experience an emotion, — for example, fear during a thunder- 
storm, anger at a slighting remark, the outpouring of love, 
joy over a football victory, pride in the achievement of a 
brother, grief over the death of a friend. If one should see 
a neighbor's house on fire ; should become excited and 
alarmed ; should see, on arrival at the scene, that some 
members of the family are at the fourth-story windows 
frantically calling for aid; should realize that escape 
through the house in ordinary ways is impossible, that no 
ladders are near, that a jump would endanger life and limb, 
that the flames are getting nearer and nearer the room 
where the endangered ones are, and that fear reigns in the 
hearts of all, clear thinkmg would be most difficult and 
conflicting thoughts and acts would suggest themselves. 
At last the belated fire company arrives ; skilled hands 
erect the ladders to the windows ; the daring rescues take 
place; hope, admiration, relief, gratitude, and joy surge 
into the minds of the rescued and the spectators, and later 
gradually subside. 



THE COMPLEX AFFECTIVE PROCESSES 261 

Suppose a case where a couple of boys have put off m a 
sailboat to make a five-mile trip across a bay. The sea is 
rough, the wind increases, the waves get higher and higher. 
A friend of the boys has seen them start, knows how ama- 
teurish is their skill in sailmg. The friend's imagination 
will picture the possibilities of disaster m all details. A 
headland makes the boat no longer visible. Fear, suspense, 
even anguish may possess the friend's mind. An hour after- 
ward the friend hears of their safe arrival on the other side 
of the bay. The emotional experiences change to relief 
and joy. 

We might take a case of emotion connected with a mem- 
ory. The act of heroism and of devotion may awaken emo- 
tions of admhation, love, and gratitude to an even greater 
extent in memory than when the deed was witnessed. 

Mental factors in emotion. With these cases in mind the 
factors or mental constituents of the states of conscious- 
ness concerned may be picked out. The first, though not 
the most important, factor of an emotion is this basis in 
perception or image out of which the full emotion springs. 
The person is confronted by an mcident or situation which 
he must respond to in some manner. This circumstance or 
situation thus suddenly brought to his attention is grasped 
in more or less detail. It probably is something which he 
sees or hears. The possible consequences to himself or to 
others at once suggest themselves. Or the incident may 
possibly be somethmg suddenly called to memory by some 
present suggestion. Other associated ideas cluster around 
the suggested memory image. Such a situation in percep- 
tion or memory, calculated to stir the individual m an 
emotional way, takes hold of him m a decidedly pleasant or 
unpleasant fashion. The second factor in the living of an 
emotion is, then, this strong affective toning, pleasant or 



262 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

unpleasant, of the group of perceptions or memory images, 
together with associated suggestions, which give rise to the 
state. Taking these two factors together, we have as one 
great part of the emotional experience a strong feeling, 
natural under the circumstances mentioned. 

But this is not all. We could not speak of an emotion 
as being more than a simple feeling were there not some 
additional factors. In fact, we have yet to find the main 
feature of the emotion, that which gives the state of mind 
its peculiar flavor, the feature which makes the state a 
decidedly emotional one. The experience takes a deeper 
hold of us than does a mere feeling. 

When the situation calculated to stir up an emotion 
confronts the individual, he is deeply stirred. His whole 
bemg responds. He tlirills with excitement. This means 
that the situation sets up in him certain physical changes. 
He cannot help having these instinctive physical responses. 
But at first he does not know definitely what to do. He 
tends to " fly to pieces." His movements are more or less 
meaningless, erratic, uncertain. The motor tendencies are 
apparently in conflict. They are not such as to lead to a 
quick and sure response which would enable him to master 
the situation. 

The physical changes or stirrings of his bodily organism 
report themselves at once in consciousness. His stream of 
consciousness is decidedly modified by the mflow of the 
feeling of the motor conflict. He experiences a wealth of 
bodily feelings. These feelings have m them two factors, the 
organic sensations and their huge affective toning, pleasant 
or unpleasant. These are the third and fourth factors which 
enter into the make-up of the emotion. These rich, strong, 
organic feelmgs, joined with the feeling constituted by the 
first and second factors of the emotion, make up the entire 



THE COMPLEX AFFECTIVE PEOCESSES 263 

emotion. These organic feelings are very strong, showing 
that the individual is profoundly stirred. Hence the strength 
of the emotion. Without these, the emotion would be impos- 
sible. They are the great commotion in consciousness. They 
are the main, though not the only, factors in the emotion. 

It would hardly be correct to say that we first feel the 
emotion and then express it. When we are confronted 
by a certain situation the body at once readjusts itself, 
changes taking place in various parts. The feelmg of these 
changes as they occur is certainly the mam characteristic 
feature of the emotion. If the emotion is freely expressed, 
it is mtense but soon wears itself out, probably on account 
of the wearying of the nerve cells and the muscles con- 
cerned. If the emotion is repressed, and if outer manifesta- 
tions, like weeping, laughmg, or shouting with joy, are not 
indulged in, the emotion is likely to last longer, though it 
may not be so intense. The organic feelmgs in such a case 
arise from mner physical disturbances. The person may 
not show the emotion, but he feels it deeply " inside." On 
account of the repression of the tendencies to " explode," 
the physical changes are where they do not show. With- 
out the feelings resulting from these organic changes the 
emotion would be a comparatively cold-blooded affair. As 
was said above, without these the experience would not be 
an emotion at all. The emotion and the physical expres- 
sion, then, go on at the same time, being the mental and 
the physical sides, respectively, of the one occurrence. Of 
course the emotion may be rather deeply felt before the 
most outward manifestations, like strilcmg in anger, are 
exhibited. 

Expression of the emotion. One of the most noticeable 
features of the emotional life is its outward expression. 
Fear, anger, surprise, etc., all tend to express themselves 



264 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

in a manner at once decided and characteristic. We do not 
usually mistake one state of emotion for another, nor do 
we as a rule fail to notice a change of expression in those 
about us when they become possessed by an emotion. Our 
friend is delighted with the good news he may receive ; we 
notice his emotion. We also notice his overpowering grief 
when he receives most grievous news. 

It would not be difficult to describe the more outward 
and apparent forms of manifestation of the various emo- 
tions. They are too well known, however, to require more 
than the merest mention. The bowed head and the sob of 
grief, the clenched fist of anger, the crouching form and the 
hair standing on end of fear, — such facts as these are of 
the commonest knowledge. 

But we may go somewhat deeper than this. 

1. The emotion takes a strong hold of the physical 
organism. The vital organs are modified in their action. 
The heart, the lungs, the stomach, the skin, the muscles, 
the salivary and other glands, and various other parts of 
the body undergo changes in their normal activity. These 
changes are, as we have already seen, reported in conscious- 
ness, and we call them the various sorts of organic feelings. 
Little more can be said about the reasons for these pecul- 
iar disturbances. They seem to be natural to the organism, 
and each form of emotion seems to have its own variety of 
physical disturbance. 

2. In assigning further reasons for forms of emotional 
expression, we must remember that the organism has an 
inheritance from countless past generations. The various 
ways in which emotions are expressed may be, to a certain 
extent, useful to us now. They were much more useful, 
however, m the lower grades of development. The forms 
of expression are largely clue to our inheritance of peculiar 



THE COMPLEX AFFECTIVE PEOCESSES 265 

activities once useful to tlie individual in dealing with the 
object of the emotion. For example, we raise the eyebrows 
and start when we are surprised. The lip is curled in the 
sneer, though this incipient snarl may, in us, have outlived 
its usefulness. So m great measure the peculiar expressions 
of anger, pride, etc, 

3. Primitive man, on account of his limited vocabulary 
and the simple nature of his life, expressed his feelings, 
wishes, and emotions by gesture and by facial expression. 
He responded directly to pleasant and unpleasant expe- 
riences, tastes, smells, sights, and sounds. When other 
experiences came which affected him very much as these 
pleasant or unpleasant sensations did, primitive man would 
naturally express these more novel and more complex states 
of mind as he expressed himself concerning pleasant or un- 
pleasant tastes, smells, etc. Our language bears this out m 
such expressions as " looking sour," " unsavory reputation," 
" a taste of success," and " a sweet memory." These phrases 
are evidence of this primitive method of expressing various 
sorts of feeling and emotion, and are the inheritance of the 
civilized man of to-day. 

The chief principles of emotional expression may, then, 
be summarized as follows : (1) emotional expression is a 
natural, profound disturbance of important parts of the 
organism ; (2) the expression is in a measure a survival 
in milder form of activities once extremely useful to the 
organism m facing the peculiar circumstances of its environ- 
ment ; (3) the expression may also be in a measure facial, 
inherited from a condition of life where such facial expres- 
sion was the best means of conveying the meaning of 
certain experiences, — that is, those affecting the individual 
ia the same manner as certain tastes, smells, sights, and 
sounds. The possibilities of expression under these tlu-ee 



266 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

heads are indefinitely many. Their various combinations 
give opportunity for all that richly varied life of emotion 
which the human being possesses. 

Function of emotion. Some further light may be thrown 
upon the nature of emotion by a reference to its purpose 
and meaning in the life of the individual. 

1. We are stirred emotionally only by such circumstances 
as affect our well-being. In surprise, fear, anger, etc., the 
circumstances are important ones and the arousal of the 
organism is mstinctive. Events happening which have no 
connection with the person, or which can mean nothing of 
any importance to him directly or sympathetically, are not 
the sort to stir the emotions. 

2. We are not stirred emotionally by those circumstances 
which we are accustomed to take care of in a habitual way. 
When habit takes care of the case, there is no need for an 
especial arousal. 

The arousal of the self in an emotional way is an mdica- 
tion that a situation must be faced which requires different 
treatment from that which we are accustomed to exercise. 
We are, of course, excited, and in fact usually so much ex- 
cited, at first, that we do not react in the most effective way. 
Temporarily — as, for example, m fear — we quiver with 
the stress of the emotion, but are practically paralyzed so 
far as any efficient action is concerned. Our old habits will 
not suffice ; they do not fit the case. The mere excitement 
will not suffice. Unless the excitement, the arousal of the 
powers of the self, can issue in some sort of advantageous 
conduct in facing the circumstances giving rise to the emo- 
tion, it is practically useless. The natural course of events, 
however, is that the excitement leads to a rearrangement 
of our customary methods of behavior for the purpose of 
effective conduct. When this natural course goes on we 



THE COMPLEX AFFECTIVE PROCESSES 267 

gradually steady down, get a measure of self-control; the 
inward commotion subsides somewhat ; we desire a certain 
outcome and use our powers intelligently to obtain it. For 
this useful purpose the emotions exist. It is a stirring 
up of the powers of the self to act advantageously in the 
peculiar situation which gives rise to the emotion. The 
depth of the feeling indicates the importance of action in 
the case. 

When the emotions are constantly called into exercise 
just for the sake of pleasurable excitement, they are ab- 
normally called upon. The person who indulges in this 
sort of conduct in an extreme way we call sentimental. 
When lived naturally, however, the instinctive emotional 
life is of great importance and advantage. It is the index 
of a genuine arousal of the self to meet new circumstances 
effectively with all its available powers. 

Sentiment. There is another class of feeling experiences, 
the higher or finer emotions, which are better called senti- 
ments. They are aroused m the mind in connection with 
certam judgments, such as those of the beautiful, the tragic, 
of moral approval, patriotism, reverence, etc. They may be 
classified as follows : 

1. JEsthetic sentiments. These are mspired by one's 
natural love of the beautiful. 

2. Moral sentiments. These are aroused by situations 
and judgments of a moral sort, by one's tendency to love 
and admire the good in conduct, and condemn the bad. 

3. Social sentiments, — love of country or patriotism. 

4. Religious sentiments, — those naturally arising in one's 
consciousness in connection with the thought of the divine, 
and the relation of the human to the divme. 

5. Intellectual sentiments, — those aroused by one's 
natural love of truth. 



268 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

To explain in greater detail. The aesthetic sentiments 
may be aroused by many different objects. The beautiful 
in nature ; the ugly or beautiful in form ; the artistic in 
painting, sculpture, architecture, and music ; beauty in lit- 
erary production, — any of these may be, as they are ex- 
perienced in the judgment of the individual, the basis of 
the sesthetic sentiments. The intellectual sentiments are 
usually experienced as love and admiration of the truth, 
leading one on to attain it, and f eelmgs of fitness and satis- 
faction with its attainment. The moral sentiment may be 
experienced with respect to one's own conduct or to that 
of others. One has an experience of feeling of obligation 
to perform certain right lines of conduct, and also a feeling 
of self-approval or of remorse according as one has acted 
rightly or wrongly. Remorse may be so deep-set physically 
as to be called an emotion. One may experience, in the 
way of sentiment based on judgment, approval or disap- 
proval with respect to the conduct of others. The social 
sentiments are aroused in connection with judgments about 
one's country, state, town, church, or society. These are 
closely connected with pride and sympathy, and generally 
go by the name of patriotic feelings. The religious senti- 
ment takes on many forms, but is experienced m reverence 
for God, awe in his presence, submission, etc. 

In analyzing the nature of sentiment as a mental state, 
it may be compared with emotion. In the first place it is 
aroused by some judgment in connection with the appro- 
priate object, not merely by (as in the case of emotion) the 
awareness of a situation, or an associated group of memory 
images, or imaginations. In connection with the judgment 
concerning an object, there is a decided glow of pleasant- 
:ness or unpleasantness immediately aroused. These two 
factors correspond to the first two factors of the emotion. 



THE COMPLEX AFFECTIVE PROCESSES 269 

The normal human being is of such a nature that he has 
an instinctive bodily set with respect to these strongly 
affectively-toned judgments. He has a certain bodily stir- 
ring-up and expression. This is very mild indeed compared 
with that experienced in emotion, but it is doubtful if it is 
ever altogether absent. The thu-d and fourth factors of the 
sentiment will then be certain organic sensations aroused 
by the attitude of the organism under the circumstances, 
together with the affective toning of these sensations, mak- 
ing a feeling which, with the feeling composed of the first 
two factors, constitutes the sentiment. Take, for exam- 
ple, the sentiment of reverence towards the Divine Bemg. 
Notice the characteristic posture, — the bowed head, the 
natural kneeling or standing position. These expressions 
enter decidedly into the make-up of the sentiment. One 
can hardly help feeling reverent under such circumstances, 
while it would be equally difficult to feel the sentiment of 
reverence sitting back in one's easy-chair, with feet higher 
than one's head, smoking a cigar or eating sweetmeats. 

Compared with emotion, then, we may say that the sen- 
timent is less intense because less composed of organic 
feelings, and of higher grade of mental life because it rests 
upon a judgment of ideal relations, rather than upon being 
confronted merely by a situation in perception. Like the 
emotion, the sentiment is an arousal of the self to act ap- 
propriately under certain circumstances. 

It may be well to outline a little further the nature of 
one of the groups of sentiments, in order to come to a fuller 
understanding of what the feeling life expressed in senti- 
ment is. Let us take for this purpose the moral sentiments, 
as they are probably of even greater importance than the 
others, if a comparison between mental processes of such 
worth can be made. 



270 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

These sentiments are experienced by people in connec- 
tion with judgments about the right and wrong in conduct 
of self and others. They are in a striking sense affective, 
there being intense satisfaction and dissatisfaction involved 
in them. When we approve or disapprove the moral con- 
duct of ourselves or others, we do so feelingly. When 
faced by a moral situation, the feelirig of " I ought," or " I 
ought not," is deep indeed. When we have performed the 
vu'tuous act in face of all obstacles and temptations, we 
have the delight of the approval of a good conscience. 
When we have failed, we have the decidedly unpleasant 
experience of remorse. 

The factors involved in such experiences are the judg- 
ments which are made in the cases, the pleasantness or un- 
pleasantness of the affair, and the organic feelings which 
come into consciousness on account of the set of the whole 
organism in such situations. These feelings are decidedly 
unique. It is difficult, if indeed possible, to analyze the 
feeling of oughtness any further. 

It may be well to point out the fact that these sentiments 
grow up gradually. There are certain conditions which are 
favorable for their development, and a few of these may be 
indicated. First, there are the pleasant and unpleasant con- 
sequences of certain acts. Hence a premium or discount 
on such acts, as the case may be. For these acts the child 
is likely to receive praise or blame. Rewards and punish- 
ments are also likely to be his portion upon such perform- 
ances. Hope of the one and fear of the other enter into 
his attitudes. Certain acts are suggested by parents and 
teachers, and have all the weight of authority connected 
with them. The child learns to obey, to fall in willingly 
with such and such lines of action. Then, by means of his 
social impulses, love and sympathy, he tends to perform 



THE COMPLEX AEFECTIVE PEOCESSES 271 

loving and sympathetic acts, backed by these feehngs. He 
also tends to perform these acts because of his love and 
sympathy for those who are suggesting such acts to him. 

Such conditions are constantly present in the child's life. 
Such instincts and emotions early influence his conduct. 
Without undertaking to go into the further question of 
how instinctive the moral sentiments themselves are, and 
without entering into any controversy as to the exact 
nature of the development of the child, from a condition 
where he is moved by just such instincts and considerations 
as those mentioned above to a condition where he is pro- 
foundly moved by moral sentiments and considerations, we 
may at least point out the following facts : Gradually, 
under tlie influence of the conditions dominant in early life 
leading to such results in conduct as tliose above mentioned, 
the moral sentiments and the moral judgments connected 
with these sentiments develop. This early instinctive and 
emotional life, where love and sympathy and fear are much 
in evidence ; this susceptibihty to pleasant and unpleasant 
consequences, to praise and blame, to reward and punish- 
ment ; this time of response to suggestion of others, of copy- 
ing the acts which will meet with social approval, — all 
these complex considerations of living, of feeling, learning, 
and doing, pave the way for the emergence of the moral 
sentiments. These moral sentiments come to act in con- 
junction with the earlier forces, and gradually, in great 
measure, purely by themselves. 

The emotions and sentiments educationally and practi- 
cally considered. It is not the business of education either 
to repress the life of emotion and sentiment, or to encourage 
its indiscriminate development. It must be utilized and 
trained. If it is unduly repressed, the person will lack in 
power. If unduly encouraged, the individual will become 



272 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

overexcitable and sentimental. If allowed to run wild, the 
emotions would soon master, the whole nature, and one 
would become a passionate weakling. If kept under con- 
trol, and allowed to give momentum to the achievement 
of desirable ends, they become a priceless resource. It is 
possible for the sentiments to become sentimental vapor- 
mgs, playing no essentially useful part in the life and de- 
velopment of their possessor. If properly trained, on the 
other hand, they may be most valuable allies in the devel- 
opment of knowledge along ideal Imes, and m the molding 
of worthy character. 

Results to be aimed at. In discussing' the trainino- of emo- 
tion and the feeling life generally, it will be well to keep in 
mind those general ends or results which the well-trained 
emotional and feeling life will bring about. These ends 
may be summed up in three general classes with which the 
reader is already familiar, — feeling experiences, knowmg 
experiences, and active or willing experiences. The end to 
be brought about by the proper training of the feeling life 
may be summed up, in terms of feeling experience itself, as 
enjoyment or happmess. The end to be brought about, in 
terms of knowledge or mtellectual activity, is the establish- 
ment of deep-set interests along mtellectual lines so as to 
result in thorough, accurate, extensive, and useful knowl- 
edge. The third end, or class of ends, the active or willing 
experiences prompted by properly trained emotions, may be 
summed up as success and rectitude in action. In short, 
the emotional life should be so trained as to bring about 
in the mdiviclual an experience that is thoroughly happy 
and enjoyable, a set of mterests prompting to intellectual 
achievement and progress, and a set of habits of action at 
once of rectitude and utility. These bemg the chief ends to 
be realized in the training of the feelmg life, our problem 



THE COMPLEX AFFECTIVE PEOCESSES 273 

will be to find the best ways of dealing with the life of feel- 
ing, emotion, and sentiment, that the appropriate means may 
be adopted for the purpose. 

Happiness as an aim. That life shall be as enjoyable and 
happy as possible is no longer regarded as an unworthy 
aim. This end is held to be not incompatible with the other 
aims spoken of above. To be happy has become a rational 
aim and a manifest obligation. The question arises as to 
the practical means by which, m self and others, this ex- 
tremely desirable end may be realized. 

In discussing the problem of the means to be employed 
so that the whole life of feelmg may be trained for the 
highest results m the way of enjoyment, the whole range 
of feeling experience n^iust be taken into account. Feeling 
or affective experience has been shown to embrace agree- 
able and disagreeable bodily and mental feelings ; the emo- 
tions, such as fear, anger, pride, emulation, sympathy, love ; 
and the sentunents, mtellectual, sesthetic, social, moral, and 
religious. These all must be so cultivated that there will 
be no clashing of interests ; that their exhibitions may be in 
due measure, in proper times and places, for the further- 
ance of real enjoyment and lasting happiness. 

If by providing proper accommodations and surround- 
ings, by example and reasoned precept and explanation, by 
proper instruction in physiology and hygiene, and by sug- 
gestion and encouragement m the matter of forming habits, 
teachers can promote health in their students, they have gone 
a long way toward promoting their lasting happiness. In this 
same connection it may be said that many forms of exercise 
and sport which will be of permanent value for recreation 
and health may easily, by suggestion, example, and proper 
opportunity, be made the habits of pupils. These, too, have 
their part in the general happiness of earlier and later clays. 



274 AN INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

The health and general activity of the body having been 
encouraged and developed consistently in earl}^ school and 
home life, one condition of the enjoyment of life has been 
reasonably met. A healthy, strong mental life, on the other 
hand, is even a greater factor for achieving the result. The 
whole educative process is mtended to produce a full, active, 
accurate body of ideas and well-developed mterests. This 
has had sufficient recognition in the chapter on attention and 
interest, and is cited here to point out its direct value in 
education as a formal condition of enjoyment. 

A great factor to be taken into account in the education 
of the feelmgs is the immense influence of social envi- 
ronment. Happiness is, as all know, largely a matter of 
attitude. If there is contentment m the atmosphere sur- 
rounding the child at home and in school, he will tend 
to be content. This does not mean lack of ambition, but 
a general healthy attitude toward one's conditions of life. 
This may be taught, mdirectly for the most part, m all the 
years of school life. Feelmg attitudes are contagious; they 
are matters of imitation quite as much as are mannerisms 
and ways of speech. Contentment thus becomes a habit 
which even a life of failures and misfortunes cannot 
overcome. 

Another important feature of the training of the feelings 
in order that life may be enjoyable is the proper care and 
nurture of the aesthetic imagination and sentiment. This 
may be carried on during all the years of school life. 
Appreciation and enjoyment of the beautiful in nature and 
in the arts may be made the direct object of teaching and 
influence. Art productions may be gradually understood 
and enjoyed if the same care is given to these matters 
as to the teaching of arithmetic and geography. Espe- 
cially may aesthetic appreciation be developed if the active 



THE COMPLEX AFFECTIVE PROCESSES 275 

imagination of the child is encouraged to produce what it 
can in the way of the beautiful. Whether by imitation or in 
a more unagmative way, the child may be encouraged to do 
something for himself in music, drawing, color work, carv- 
ing, etc. Active expression will develop the interest in 
such matters, wilh prompt mquiry as to the conditions of 
beauty, will thus lead to further understanding of artistic 
objects and to a deeper enjoyment of them all the while. 

Emotional training. It was said above that the trammg of 
the feelings and emotions had a tlireef old object m view, — 
happiness, mtellectual effort, and success and rectitude in 
action. Suggestions have now been made as to the realiz- 
ing of the first of these ends ; the other two remain. Before 
going on with these, however, a few words should be said 
about the training of the emotions themselves, for upon 
their proper direction and control much of the realization 
of the threefold aim referred to will depend. Some of the 
emotional tendencies should be restrained, some encouraged, 
as was mentioned above. The great molder of the emo- 
tional life is experience itself. Let the consequences, indi- 
vidual and social, have their natural force. The child will 
soon learn to mitigate the rage expended on his playthings, 
if the broken ones are not replaced by others. He will 
soon feel to his great discomfort the social disapproval of 
his rash and passionate words and acts. The child must 
suffer if he would become strong, and master of his pas- 
sions. If these unpleasant results, individual and social, 
are allowed to take their course, if they are even accentu- 
ated by further deprivations and social coohiess, the un- 
desirable tendencies will tend to be inhibited, and will not 
be so lilcely to harden into habits. On the other hand, the 
desirable emotional tendencies may be m the same man- 
ner encouraged. Let social approval not be withheld 



276 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

from expressions of love and sympathy, from proper exhi- 
bitions of emulation, pride, etc., and even well-grounded 
fear and just anger. Let the individual advantages ac- 
crue from these desirable manifestations, and make the 
social approval, the smiles and the applause, and even 
the rewards, manifest to the struggling, experimental life 
of the boy or girl. 

Further assistance may be given in this development by 
counsel and reasoning, by the right one in the case, after 
the passion shall have spent its force, and the child has 
become somewhat reasonable again. Sympathetic counsel 
is often most welcome, and the child may thus be fortified 
against the next trying experience. Again, the attitude of 
the child may be somewhat modified by such explanation as 
will perhaps change the object of the feeling, if that is de- 
sirable. It thus may be drawn off into a harmless or even 
a useful channel. Still another way of controlling emotion 
is to bring about a change in the situation and environment 
of the child. The object of his attention may thus be al- 
tered, and a new and desirable feeling tendency may take 
the place of the undesirable one. 

In all such attempts to control and direct the emotional 
life, the real end and aim of the training should not be lost 
sight of. It is not the elimination of the emotional life that 
is desirable. The life of emotion is the real force of the 
individual. It should therefore be developed, even though 
this development does involve considerable weeding and 
mhibition. Love and sympathy need a measure of direc- 
tion ; pride and emulation need more, but one could hardly 
lead a normal and successful life without them ; and even 
fear, anger, and jealousy have their proper objects and 
times of exhibition. None of the emotional energy of the 
individual need be wasted. 



THE COMPLEX AFFECTIVE PROCESSES 277 

Intellectual activity as an aim. To turn now to the 
second of the tlireefold aims of the training of the life of 
feeling, — -intellectual activity. The various feelings, desires, 
and emotions lead to action, and in order that this action 
may be suitable and satisfactory, it must be thought over 
carefully with all the conditions of self, other people, and 
physical environment taken into consideration. Hence the 
emotional life tends toward intellectual activity. Of course 
this thought activity cannot go on at its best when the 
emotions are at their height. They must settle down into 
.what we have called interests, and these interests will be 
along- the lines of the realization of the various desires. 
Love, sympathy, fear, emulation, etc. may be enlisted in 
the service of obtaining knowledge, may become strong 
moving forces or interests, as permanent as the conditions 
under which they spring up call for. Fear, anger, emula- 
tion, desire for ownership, and the like, draw the attention to 
their objects ; investigation is carried on, new facts brought 
out, related objects noticed, relations discovered, and knowl- 
edge considerably advanced in the individual's mind on 
account of his being possessed by these feelings and emo- 
tions. There is no necessity that these fears, sympathies, etc. 
should go for nothing, if the teacher will but notice them 
and direct the attention and interest naturally resulting 
into mines of information. Plants, animals, the world of 
inorganic nature, laws, customs, political geography, and 
much else may thus be studied with the deepest interest 
and concern. Prompted largely by these emotional tenden- 
cies, and existing pretty strongly in human nature on its 
own account, is the feeling or emotion of curiosity. By 
proper direction it may be guided toward the gaining of 
desirable knowledge, and may thus be prevented from 
being exercised upon trivial and undesirable 'matters. 



278 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

Useful and right action as an aim. Not only should the 
life of feeling be trained for the sake of lasting enjoyment 
and the furtherance of knowledge, but also for success and 
rectitude in action. By means of the proper conduct on 
the part of the individual, enjoyment of life is largely 
realized, while the furtherance of knowledge finds its mean- 
ing largely in successful and appropriate conduct. Feeling 
tends to issue in action, and the problem of its training in 
this connection is the problem of getting the feeling life to 
be the backer of efficient and desirable lines of conduct rather 
than of inefficient and undesirable. Here the teacher can 
appeal to the ambitious impulses, as was pointed out in 
Chapter IV, and can direct somewhat the mterests of the 
student. By example and suggestion, desirable aims can 
be set up in the mind of the child, his attention may be 
called to them, and they may thus become his interests. If 
the thoughts of ends that will be of service are encouraged, 
and if these ends are within the reach of the effort of the 
pupil, he will seek to achieve them and will find his satis- 
faction in their accomplishment. The means employed will 
also give satisfaction because necessary to desirable ends, 
and the pupil will get into the way of bemg pleased with the 
efficient performance of acts that count. If such enterprises 
engross his attention and are his delight, there will be little 
room for the entertainment of ends and plans which are of 
minor value. He will be displeased with inefficient perform- 
ance and will be the more pleased with efficiency. By de- 
grees the child may thus get his feelmgs attached to the 
efficient performance, and so he will not be consumed with 
empty longings toward quixotic doings. For the same reason 
he will not take his pleasure in idleness, there being more 
satisfaction for him in accomplishment. 

But it is the training of feeling toward rightness of 



THE COMPLEX AFFECTIVE PEOCESSES 279 

action that is most important. Other aspects of moral 
training are referred to in Chapters IV, VIII, and XIV ; 
it is the feehng aspect which concerns us here. The train- 
ing of feehng in moral affairs has for its object that the 
individual shall find his pleasure, his satisfaction, his 
delight in good rather than in evil. So will he hate all 
baseness, despise all vileness, esteem the pleasures of a 
good conscience, and be the ready servant of its dictates. 
This feature of moral training cannot be accomplished by 
itself. The training of instinct, impulse, and habit ; of atten- 
tion and interest ; of conception, judgment, and reason ; of 
memory, association, and imagination ; and also of voluntary 
action, must be taken into the account and carried along in 
connection with the training of the feelings, if genuine 
moral training would be given the child. 

The training influences are referred to more at length in 
the next chapter. There are the natural consequences of 
actions in terms of pleasure and pain ; reward and punish- 
ment ; imitation and suggestion ; obedience to direction ; 
the setting before the child, in story and biography, of con- 
crete examples of right conduct, to be a source of inspira- 
tion and guidance ; and the encouragement of feelings and 
acts of the right sort, which the child is actually feeling 
and performing. 

The object in moral training from a feeling point of view 
should be a normal ideal individual, prompted to the best 
type of activity by the whole force of natural feeling. In 
this there would be the healthy and right sort of physical 
activity with its strong agreeable toning, the living out of 
the life of emotion in a harmonious, enjoyable way, efficient 
mental activity with its characteristic enjoyment, and vigor- 
ous and lively moral sentiments prompting efficiently to 
the right and noble in conduct. 



280 AN INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

Huxley, in his classic description of the meaning of a 
liberal education, brings out certain features of the func- 
tion of emotion in education : " That man, I think, has had 
a liberal education who has been so trained m youth that 
his body is the ready servant of his will, and does with ease 
and pleasure all the work that as a mechanism it is capable 
of ; ... whose mind is stored with a knowledge of the great 
and fundamental truths of nature, and of the laws of her 
operations ; one who, no stunted ascetic, is full of life and 
fire, but whose passions are trained to come to heel by a 
vigorous will, the servant of a tender conscience ; who has 
learned to love all beauty, whether of nature or of art, to 
hate all vileness, and to respect others as liimself. . . ." 

REFERENCES 

James. Psychology, Briefer Course, Chapter XXIV. 

TiTCHENER. An Outline of Psychology, Sections 57 to 60, and 

Chapter XIII. 
Thorndike. Principles of Teaching, Chapter XII. 
MiJNSTERBERG. Psychology and the Teacher, Chapter XXI. 
Angell. Psychology, Chapter XIX. 



CHAPTER XIV 

THE COMPLEX PROCESSES OF CONSCIOUS 
ADAPTATION: THE WILL 

If one feature of our conscious lives can be singled out 
as of more importance than any other, that feature is the 
power of willing. These experiences of conscious action 
are common enough, and so well known that no one need 
mistake what is meant by the terpi " will." We have various 
words to name the different aspects of such experiences. De- 
sire, wish, will, decision, determination, deliberation, — such 
are the words we constantly use, and such the experiences 
we constantly have. The will is commonly thought of, and 
rightly, as the central thing in a person's life ; and those 
who have anything to do with the training of the young 
find the framing of the will the most complex and most 
difficult part of their work. 

Voluntary and involuntary action. We have already 
treated of the nature of conduct in so far as it exhibits 
impulse, instinct, and habit. The treatment of the nature 
of volition will complete the mental story of the life of 
action ; that is, the work of the organism in adapting itself 
to the varied conditions of its life. Among these features 
of our active life there is a close relation, in that all our 
voluntary acts, as outward, physical affairs, are made out 
of impulsive, instinctive, and habitual activities as their raw 
material. The organism is, as we have learned, a decidedly 
active affair from the first. Through this early activity 
it acquires control over its movements and gets mto more 

281 



282 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

or less habitual ways of doing things. When we will^ it is 
no new species of action that we engage in. In willing 
and carrying out decisions, we employ those movements 
which are already more or less familiar to us in our instinc- 
tive and impulsive life. These acts must first take place in 
an involuntary way in order that we may use them in a 
voluntary way to carry out our purposes. On account of 
the involuntary performance the acts become familiar, and 
control over them is acquired. 

Volition is thus dependent for its exercise upon our 
more fundamental life of action m impulse and instinct. 
Out of these in various combinations do our voluntary 
acts grow. After the discussion in Chapter IV, this point 
scarcely needs illustration. I decide to leave the piece of 
work on which I am engaged, and go off with my friend to 
play a game of tennis. Looking at the movements con- 
cerned in this voluntary act, it is not difficult to trace them 
back to their original simple elements in impulses, instincts, 
and the habits formed from them. How I come to make my 
decision, — that is another point, and one that we must take 
up for discussion before we get far. The actions themselves 
are, in the sense we have explained, secondary, and not 
primary, experiences. 

In our life of action, from the simplest reflex to those 
voluntary movements which carry out decision after delib- 
eration and effort of will, there are many degrees of con- 
sciousness and of " will " involved, and we may trace a 
regular gradation from the lowest to the highest. It is 
usual to make a general division of the series into those 
acts which are voluntary and those which are involuntary. 
The former acts are intended acts. We will to do them. 
We are conscious of an end or purpose, and seek to attain 
it. Involuntary acts are those which are not purposed. 



CONSCIOUS ADAPTATION: THE WILL 283 

which take place, not indeed against our intention, but 
simply without regard to any mtention. Involuntary con- 
duct has, perhaps, been sufficiently discussed in its general 
nature m Chapter IV. 

Ideomotor action. There is a type of conduct on the 
borderland between the voluntary and the involuntary, 
however, which deserves mention both on its own account 
and on account of its use in understanding the nature 
of volition. This variety of conduct is called ideomotor 
conduct. Its name suggests its meaning. The sight of an 
object, for example, calls out the natural or habitual action 
connected with that object. There is a more or less com- 
plete consciousness of the object, its relation to the actor, 
the beginnmgs of movements with respect to it, a remem- 
brance of its effects, etc., and lo ! without more ado, the 
act is performed. The idea of the conduct, or some feature 
of it, is the " motor " in the case. It is certainly performed 
without any deliberation, without any explicit decision, and 
without there being any conflicting claims toward any 
other lines of conduct at the same time. When, in playing 
baseball, one has made a fair hit, one does not deliberate 
before running to first base. The running, or at least the 
starting to run, is ideomotor action. The greeting given to 
a friend whom one unexpectedly meets is usually a sponta- 
neous ideomotor affair ; so also in the picking up of a lady's 
handkerchief. Engaged in writing or talking, one becomes 
conscious of an object not in its ordinary place on his table, 
and without any break in writing or talking the object is 
straightened into its right place. In these cases, simply to 
have in mind an idea which has an established relation to 
conduct, is sufficient cause for the performance of the con- 
duct. Here we have, in ideomotor conduct, a very clear 
case of the relation between an idea m consciousness and 



284 A^ INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

outward action. The natural effect of an idea in conscious- 
ness is an outward act. That seems to be what the idea is 
in consciousness for. 

Two questions about ideomotor conduct will lead us 
into what is more clearly voluntary conduct, or action after 
deliberation. These questions are, first, why do not our 
ideas always issue directly in conduct of the sort above 
described ? and second, what further preliminary is there 
in the case of deliberately willed conduct ? The answer to 
the first question is simple enough. Some of our ideas have 
no direct relation to conduct, and those which do have 
such a relation do not always issue directly ui simple ideo- 
motor conduct, because there are other ideas in conscious- 
ness, and perhaps conflicting ones. Our conscious life is 
not simple ; it is complex and mirrors a complex situa- 
tion around us. The idea of doing " this " is immediately 
met by the idea of doing " that." There is consequently a 
hold-up. Ideomotor action is now out of the question, and 
deliberation or inaction must ensue. Were it not for the 
appearance of the second idea, the first one would easily 
pass into action. It is its natural tendency to do so, and 
its being stopped or inhibited leads to inaction or, at least, to 
the temporary holding up of action by deliberation. 

We are now in a position to answer the second of our 
questions, — what further preliminary is there in the case of 
deliberately willed conduct ? This answer we shall give in 
the sections to follow. In domg so it will be necessary to 
point out the normal factors entering into conduct of the 
deliberately purposive sort, and to show what are the main 
features of experience in the life of volition. 

The place in volition of ideas or images. In ideomotor 
action, as we have seen, the mere presence in consciousness 
of an idea or image having a certam relation to conduct is 



CONSCIOUS ADAPTATION: THE WILL 285 

sufficient to account for the act. This idea or image is not 
necessarily a full notion of the act about to be performed. 
Some feature of the situation presents itself in conscious- 
ness, and without any deliberation or conflict the appropri- 
ate action follows. In deliberate, purposive action the case 
is somewhat different. The difference is not, however, that 
the idea or image is absent. The more deliberate the action 
performed, — that is, the more fully its pros and cons are 
reflected on in contrast with some other possible act, — the 
more fully will the details of each proposed act come to 
mind. The more habitual the act and the more clearly ideo- 
motor it is, the less necessary it will be to have in mind 
ideas of all the details of the performance. 

Take the case of signing one's name. One may have an 
image of how the name will look when written, or perhaps 
only the sound of the name will be in mind, or it may be 
some motor imagery of how it feels to hold the pen and 
write that name. In many cases of such an act, it being 
so habitual an affair, the mind will probably be on the 
circumstances which give some further meaning to the sign- 
mg of the name, — the letter one has written, the friend to 
whom one is writing, how soon he will get the letter, or 
some other phase of the whole experience of which the 
writing of the name is but a part. When a youngster is 
learning to write his name, or when any one is trying to 
perform a new and difficult task (like learning a new stroke 
in tennis), his mmd is on the act itself. And even when 
the habit is fairly well learned, the way it feels in fingers, 
arm, etc., to do just that thing will be in consciousness to 
control the act. The way it feels will probably consist of 
images of the sight and kinsesthetic sort, and even of some 
actual kinsesthetic sensations as the muscles begin to set 
for the performance. The more familiar the act becomes, 



286 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

the less watching it needs. But in order to perform an act 
voluntarily, there must be some idea of the act, or of some- 
thing connected with it, to guide the performance. The 
sight of the first baseman is sufficient guide for the throw 
by the shortstop. The small boy will have his mind more 
on the act of tlirowing. For the experienced player how it 
feels to tlirow practically drops out of consciousness ; and 
even the sight of the first baseman may be but a minor, or 
fringe, aspect of consciousness, the mmcl being given to the 
meaning of the whole situation, or, it may be, to something 
even more remote from the act of throwing. It is thus 
rather difficult to lay down any rule as to just what ideas 
must be in consciousness as the forerunners of willed con- 
duct, because the variations are so great. 

In deliberation concerning action, ideas or images dif- 
fering, conflicting, alternating, come to mind. The motor 
currents are held up. The brain centers concerned inhibit 
their natural expression. There is a condition of repressed 
excitement. We hesitate before we act. We get fuller 
ideas or images about possible courses of conduct in the 
case. Many other ideas associate themselves around these 
possible courses. We are said to be thinking the matter 
over, deliberating. After a longer or shorter time, perhaps 
a minute, perhaps several months, the idea of one of the 
possible courses of action in the case comes out strong and 
clear, the different conflicting ideas gradually vanish, and 
we will that course of action which thus becomes so prom- 
ment in mmd. The mental conflict is over. We have chosen 
our course of conduct. The inhibition in the bram centers 
and the tension are at an end. The nervous current speeds 
out along those courses that govern the act or set of acts 
we have decided upon. How this condition of conflict, of 
deliberation, passes over into decision will appear more fully 



CONSCIOUS ADAPTATION: THE WILL 287 

as the discussion goes on. What we wish to emphasize at 
this stage is that the prominent feature in dehberate vohtion 
is the presence in the mind of full, strong ideas or images. 
These full, strong ideas are the necessary condition of the 
volition. They are even more promment here, fuller, and 
more numerous, than in ideomotor action. The intellective 
element, then, m volitional experience is very important. 
The thought of the end to be realized, the means to be used 
for its realization, the advantages to be derived therefrom, 
— these images and ideas and others more or less closely 
related seem to dominate the person, and are the main fac- 
tors m decision. 

Volition in relation to the attention. The condition we 
have just described, of the presence and course of the ideas 
in deliberation and decision, may be even better explained 
from the point of view of attention. In ideomotor action 
the idea which leads to the action may be more or less 
prominently before the mind. It may be in the fringe of 
consciousness while our main thoughts are on other things, 
as m the case of straightening the article on the table. Or 
it may be all-absorbing for the moment, as in the case of 
runnmg to first base. In either event the whole attention 
available for taking care of the act under the circumstances 
is given to the idea. In deliberate volition, during the delib- 
eration, the attention is given now to the one course, and 
now to the other. Pros and cons of both courses are 
brought out mto the light. The mind focuses itself upon 
the various features of the possible courses in turn. Sooner 
or later one course or the other becomes the brighter and 
stronger. The attention is given to that at the expense 
of the other. When the attention is completely given to 
the one course, lo ! we have decided. The giving of the 
whole attention to this one course, at the expense of all 



288 AN mTKODUCTOKY PSYCHOLOGY 

conflicting, hindering courses and considerations, is the de- 
cision in the case. We may say, then, that one of the most 
prominent features of the process of dehberate volition is 
the play of the attention ; that, in fact, volition is but a 
case of attention, the act being decided when one course 
receives our whole attention at the expense of the other 
possible courses. 

Desire and its relation to volition. The process of will- 
ing may also be described in terms of desire. Here we 
begin to see the part played by feeling in volition. The 
experience of desiring something is so common and well 
known that any attempt to define the term "desire" 
would very likely tend to obscure its meaning. Our desires 
are based upon our original impulses and instincts. As we 
have already seen, when a natural tendency is once exer- 
cised, the sensible results live in memory. After that we 
are not blind in the case. We know what we want. We 
think of the end, picture in our minds the means and cir- 
cumstances, and in certain situations are in a state of 
desire with respect to that end or purpose. Now any 
course of action, to be seriously entertained and deliberated 
upon, must be more or less intensely desired. It must take 
Some hold of us, strike into the roots of our being as it were. 
Our deliberation becomes, in this way of looking at the case, 
a conflict of desires. It is not always so cool and reflective 
an affair as it might seem from the description in the last 
two sections. The conflicting courses of possible action are 
both more or less desh^ed. The desires are more or less 
calm and steady, more or less clamorous. They may rep- 
resent the flaming out of a single appetite, or the deep-set 
claims of prudence or of duty. When the feeling element 
in the case is very strong, fair deliberation is difficult. If, 
however, there is sufficient balance m the person, there is 



CONSCIOUS ADAPTATION: THE WILL 289 

an impartial hearing of the conflicting claims. If the person 
is not carried oif his feet by the sudden strength of some 
one desire, the ideas of the alternative course in the case 
may come forward. The attention may be given to this 
second course in equitable measure. The deliberation is, 
however, in this sense but a balancing of desires to deter- 
mine which, after all, the person most deeply wants. It 
may be for good or for ill that he decides, but his decision 
is none other than his own nature coming to its expression 
through the medium of the conflict of desires. 

Pleasure and pain in volition. We have thus seen that into 
many deliberations and decisions, at least, considerable feel- 
ing enters. This element should be spoken of in terms of 
pleasantness and unpleasantness. Attaching to the thoughts 
of the ends in view there will usually be something of agree- 
ableness or the contrary. This may be quite marked or prac- 
tically, if not entirely, absent. Other things being equal, 
we tend to entertain the pleasant and banish the unpleas- 
ant from the mind. The more a course of conduct takes 
hold of us, the deeper it goes into the depths of our lives, 
the greater will its agreeableness probably be. As we have 
seen, both in the case of ideomotor action and in the case 
of deliberate volition, the presence of the idea of a course 
of conduct is the main precedent of willed action. These 
ideas are in accord with our origmal and acquired tenden- 
cies. They represent desires, and these desires m turn 
have in them more or less well-marked affective toning. So 
that in many of our acts, but by no means in all, the pleas- 
antness or the unpleasantness of the courses of conduct 
deliberated upon seems to have much weight in the deci- 
sion. The feeling element is not, however, so necessary or 
characteristic a feature of the volition experience as is the 
intellective, the ideas or images themselves waxing and 



290 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

waning. It is just these ideas, representing the act in the 
situation, which are pleasant or unpleasant. One's action 
is not determined by the pleasantness or unpleasantness, 
nor apparently are these directly desired. They seem 
rather to be the indexes of whether or not the self is 
becoming well adjusted to the situation in hand. The act 
chosen will be that which seems best to satisfy the self, 
but it does not seem to be chosen because of its greater 
agreeableness. 

In so far as one desires an end or looks favorably on a 
course of action, one has what is called a motive for conduct. 
These motives are the factors in the deliberation. The real 
motive in conduct, the explanation afterwards, is that de- 
sire which finally stands as the real expression of the person. 
That it is which, under the circumstances, is decided upon 
or willed. 

Interest and volition. Instead of using the term " motive," 
we might speak of one's interest. As was pointed out in 
Chapter VIII, the attention is given spontaneously to what 
interests us. It is given with effort to what is a nonagreeable 
means to ends which appeal to us. What determines volition 
is attention. What determines attention is interest nearby 
or remote, — that is, matters of immediate concern or of 
derived moment. These are matters desired. In case the 
attention to a proposed course of action is voluntary, effort 
is involved. The great conflicts of a person's will are fre- 
quently between immediate interests and desires, — those 
things which claim the attention spontaneously and lie 
along the line of least resistance, — on the one hand, and, 
on the other, the means to remote but desirable ends, — 
those acts which seem colorless, uninteresting, and even 
hard and repulsive, where something heroic is called for, 
where the attention to them and consent to their presence in 



CONSCIOUS ADAPTATION: THE WILL 291 

mind and to their performance are only given with great 
effort. Effort is often called will power, and will be spoken 
of below. 

Relation of habit and association to volition. Our volun- 
tary acts are, for the most part, of a regular, to-be-expected 
sort. Our conduct begms very early in Iffe to come under 
the dominion of habit, and this dominion mcreases with 
the years. Even when we do novel things, or accomplish 
familiar results in novel ways, we are using all the while 
in the performance old habits in new combmations. With 
respect to our rooms, our clothes, our friends, and all else 
about us, we get mto practically fixed ways of response, 
as we have seen in our discussion of habit. Our volun- 
tary actions, then, are in great measure tied down to our 
habitual, customary ways of domg. 

In the same way our associations dominate our actions. 
Under certam circumstances our acts are practically settled 
for us on account of the associations between our ideas and 
feelings and certain movements. Professor Thorndike says : 
" Given any mental state, that movement will be made which 
has been connected with it or part of it most frequently, 
most recently, m the most vivid experience and with the 
most resulting satisfaction, and which has been so connected 
with the general system of thought and conduct present. 
We say five when we think five ; we take off our clothes 
when we decide to go to bed ; we shake hands with a 
caller ; we pat a dog ; we stroke a kitten ; we put a hat on 
our head and a coat over our shoulders — because in the 
past we have done so and without discomfort." (" Elements 
of Psychology," pp. 274-275.) 

We thus see that for the most part we are practically 
under the domination of habit and association in the great 
range of our experience of willing. 



292 AN" INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

<< Will power " in volition. It would be a mistake, how- 
ever, to neglect the element of reform and mitiative in the 
case of volition. We can perform novel acts, learn to do 
new things, break up old habits, devise unusual ways for 
achieving familiar purposes. We feel our responsibihty not 
only for being reliable, true to our natures, but also for 
changmg our ordmary ways of doing when occasion calls 
for it. Old habits may have to be broken off and better 
ways of doing our work found. 

We have seen that our voluntary acts are always second- 
ary and not primary affairs, and, in the preceding section, 
that, not only ui its parts but even as a whole, our volun- 
tary conduct tends to be guided by habit. We are, how- 
ever, livmg m a world where new situations are always 
arising, and where new suggestions are constantly being 
made. These novel circumstances awaken us to attempt to 
meet them advantageously and well. And again in our 
serious work, as m our childhood's play, we try, try again, 
until we have achieved what we desire. Our wills are capa- 
ble of initiative, then, in gradually giving new direction to 
energies which have already been more or less thoroughly 
molded into habits. 

When these new circumstances arise, — perhaps the solv- 
ing of a problem in geometry, the learning of a new stroke 
in tennis, or the escape from a dangerous predicament, — 
there seems to come a challenge to the will. The old habits 
are not enough now. They have to be modified and re- 
fitted, so that the new end may be realized. The mental 
experience, besides that of zest and unrest in the struggle, 
seems to be mainly that of active attention, in keeping 
under thorough control in consciousness both the end to be 
attained and the means, selected gradually and with care, 
which seem to be fitted to achieve the end. The end must 



CONSCIOUS ADAPTATION: THE WILL 293 

be kept in miiid, not in the center of consciousness all the 
while, but at any rate near by. Many associated ideas 
and habits must be exammed and tested as to their fitness 
to be used for the purpose. This selection and discrimina- 
tion by the active attention of means with respect to a new 
end or purpose is the element of reform and initiative in 
the case of volition. This power of initiative reveals to us 
the nature of the will very intimately. Upon this power, 
in connection with the force of habit and association in our 
voluntary conduct, does all progress depend. It must be 
reckoned with decidedly in training the will. 

To follow the line of duty, or to toil and endure great 
hardship for the sake of an ideal or a remote interest, 
involves the effort of voluntary attention. Here it is that 
the so-called will power must be invoked. Such cases 
are really of the same sort as what we have just called 
initiative and reform. They mean strength of will, capacity 
for taking pains, strenuous exertion, conscious control over 
action with much effort. They constitute the supreme as- 
pect of conscious processes making the finest adjustments 
of the organism to the conditions of its highest life. 

Imitation and suggestion in volition. There is another 
feature of the volitional life, closely connected with those 
mentioned in the last two sections, which ought to be men- 
tioned; namely, the part played by imitation and suggestion 
in our voluntary life. In our conduct, both of the habitual 
and associative sort, and in initiative, we are strongly in- 
fluenced in the ways of imitation and suggestion. From 
the first we are social beings, and are observant of the ways 
and doings of those about us. These we tend to copy. We 
emulate the deeds we admire, and would make them our 
own, adapting them in perhaps a more excellent way. The 
force of example is a very strong one from earliest days. 



294 AN INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOaY 

By examples, by the acts and suggestions of others, the 
attention and interest are caught and held. If no con- 
flicting ideas or images are called up, we proceed either 
with ease or with difficulty to perform the suggested act. 
If other and conflicting ideas are aroused, the struggle of 
deliberation and decision takes place. In either case we are 
influenced, the will directed, habits formed, and character 
molded, by this great ever-present force of example. 

Recent studies in social psychology and in the phenom- 
ena of hypnotism not only have brought to light extreme 
cases of suggestion and suggestibility, but have shown that 
the influence of suggestion is exceedingly great in every- 
day, normal experience. In hypnotism the patient is in a 
relation of extreme receptivity to the operator. Whatever 
the suggestion is, it results m practically ideomotor con- 
duct. Even when the suggestion is made that next day, 
after the hypnotic state is over, the patient will perform 
some trivial act, it is usually effective ; for when the 
proper hour arrives the patient, without knowing why, 
carries it out. Such facts go to show the natural course 
of an idea when others do not inhibit it. In some cases 
of hypnotism there may be conflict, but in many of these 
cases the suggested course of action is victorious over the 
habit, or " stubbornness," of the patient. This is somewhat 
like an ordinary instance of will, with an unusual premium 
in the way of suggestion put upon one course of action. 
In ordmary life we do not act as do hypnotized patients; 
but in all kinds of ways, more or less subtle, we are con- 
stantly, dh-ectly or mdirectly, having our conduct deter- 
mmed by the suggestion of others. 

Even more curious and important than the cases of hyp- 
notism are those of crowd or mob influences, or in milder 
form the influence of society on the individual's thoughts 



CONSCIOUS ADAPTATION: THE WILL 295 

and actions. It is not practicable to enlarge here upon the 
conditions, in the individual and the groups of which he is 
a part, which are most productive of extreme results by 
suggestion. Ross, iii his " Social Psychology," mentions a 
case from the Psychological Review (Vol. VI, p. 407). "A 
professor of chemistry announced to his auditors : ' The 
bottle which you see before me contains a chemical with a 
strong and peculiar odor. I wish to see how rapidly the odor 
will be diffused tlirongh the air and will therefore ask each 
of you to raise the hand as soon as the odor is perceived.' 
With face averted he then poured the liquid over some 
cotton and started a stop watch. In fifteen seconds most of 
those in the front row had given the sign, and by the end 
of a minute three fourths of the audience claimed to per- 
ceive the smell. Yet the bottle contamed nothing but dis- 
tilled water, and the professor had been measuring the 
power of suggestion and not the diffusibility of an odor." 

Orclmarily, mdirect suggestion seems to be more effective 
than that which is direct, although in hypnosis the reverse 
would seem to be true. When anything is " in the air " or 
comes to one with a certain prestige, when it is felt to be 
favored by those m authority, when it is the fashion, when 
the " upper classes " do it, when " everybody " thinks or 
feels or believes in a certain way, then the suggested belief 
or act or mode of behavior is likely to be chosen. The 
individual is unconsciously determined by the beliefs and 
ways of the multitude. He feels of little account in the 
tlu^ong. He takes on the craze or fad. What he would not 
heed if Jeft to himself he is susceptible to on account of his 
social solidarity with others. Financial crazes, booms in real 
estate and mming shares, extreme revival phenomena, epi- 
demics of lynchings, of end-of-the-world beliefs, stampedes, 
massacres, crusades, witchcraft beliefs and persecutions, 



296 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

dancmg manias, Klondike enthusiasms, — all these and 
many other more or less extreme phenomena testify to the 
wonderful effect on belief and action of social pressure. 
Just where normal social influence, which enlightens both 
beliefs and deeds, gives way to the extreme forms and 
becomes abnormal would be difficult to figure out. In 
describing volition the whole story could by no means be 
told without some allusion to the important influence on 
belief and decision of suggestions from individuals and 
from society in normal and in unusual conditions. 

Making up the mind. Deliberation and decision are often 
referred to as " making up the mind." The real meaning of 
the phrase seems to be, bringing order out of the chaos of 
conflicting ends, desires, interests, and motives. We think 
matters over, we give each its proper place. In this process 
there is a waxing of some motives and a waning of others. 
Each interest is a partial expression of the self. Were this 
not so, it would be no motive to us ; it would not claim the 
attention, nor be taken into the account. As we deliberate, 
it becomes clearer what we really want. One course of 
action grows clearer, or claims the attention more than 
the others. One motive comes to dominate. One interest 
seems to swell, until others are crowded out. The relative 
merits of competing desires become apparent, and at last 
the mind is made up. The decision is not an arbitrary selec- 
tion by the will without regard to motives. It is the natu- 
ral coming to its rightful position of domination of that 
course of action which under the circumstances best ex- 
presses our ideals, our habits, and our desires. It is the free 
and natural expression of the entire self. In a completely 
deliberated decision no factor is left out. Ideas, feelings, 
habits, motives, interests, desires, and effort all play their 
respective parts. 



CONSCIOUS ADAPTATION: THE WILL 297 

We have now discussed, as fully as seemed practicable, 
the various factors of the process of volition, and the nature 
of the will. The place of ideas and images ; of feelings, inter- 
ests, motives; of attention, habit, association, initiative, effort, 
imitation, and suggestion has been indicated. In doing so we 
have not discussed directly the question. What is the will ? 
We have found no one specific item in the volition process 
that could well be so named. As Angell puts it, " The 
whole mind active^ this is the will" ("Psychology," p. 437). 
The will represents the whole consciously purposive life of 
the person. All the other features of consciousness enter 
into it. Ideas, feelings, desires, habits, aspirations, — ■ all 
are indissolubly bound up in voluntary conduct. Will is 
not a faculty or function separated from the rest of our con- 
scious life of memory, imagination, emotion, etc. It is all 
these conscious processes working together for the intelli- 
gent direction of conduct. Volition is not separate from 
motive and impulse, but is a fusion of all the tendencies 
of the mind superintending and controlling action. 

Training of the wilL If the foregoing is a correct 
account of the nature of the volitional processes, certain 
corollaries of a practical sort seem to follow, answering 
questions as to what it means to train the will, and how, 
directly or indirectly, the will may be influenced. 

1. The first important feature in training the will is the 
help furnished by supplying the mind with a useful body of 
ideas. As we have seen above, we deliberate, decide, and 
act in accordance with the ideas which are attended to. A 
worthy and useful stock of ideas is essential if the will and 
character of the person are to be of the most desirable sort. 
The first and fundamental problem of those who undertake 
the training of the will is that of so assisting and guidmg 
the youthful mind that it may acquire such ideas. 



298 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

These ideas are to be derived from many sources. From 
story, biography, history, the drama, the whole account of 
man's individual and social life, come thoughts which are 
essential in the formation of worthy and useful ideas about 
conduct. From the study of the human body, of plant and 
animal life, of the world as described in the earth sciences, 
come ideas without which the will is dun m its vision and 
unsuccessful in its struggle. From the more formal studies, 
such as arithmetic, grammar, and teclmics generally, are de- 
rived ideas of means to the accomplishment of ends, — ideas 
which enlighten the mind and so guide the will. And from 
all the " expression " work of the schools, comes a unique 
training in the exact formulation of ideas, as well as an at- 
tachment of these ideas to the proper modes of expression. 
In these studies, which supply a body of useful and worthy 
conceptions of conduct, teachers have the greatest means 
under their control for molding the wills and characters 
of their pupils. In all the ways of instruction inside the 
schoolroom and out, from the give-and-take of social inter- 
course, wherever knowledge of the self and of the world 
of people and things about us may be had, can the will be 
very thoroughly and fundamentally trained by acquaintance 
with the better and worse in human conduct. 

In this matter of training the will inclhectly by means 
of inculcating knowledge, it should be borne in mind that 
the precept is not enough. The ins and outs of experience 
must be known by the individual, or foreknowledge of 
these things will not bring him profit. Many a mistake 
in conduct would be avoided if the bearings and conse- 
quences of certain ways of conduct were thoroughly known. 
The dearly bought experience may sometimes be avoided, 
not by empty precept and warning mdeed, but by a 
thorough knowledge, a worthy and useful body of ideas, 



CONSCIOUS ADAPTATION: THE WILL 299 

with which the schools and the homes ought to supply 
young people before the serious situations confront them. 

2. The second great feature of the traming of the will 
is the building up in the mind of the proper interests and 
the habit of giving the attention to useful and worthy pur- 
poses. It is not enough that a desirable stock of ideas 
should be m the possession of the youtliful mind. We 
know the better and ofttimes follow the worse. The idea 
that is dwelt upon, and fondly dwelt upon, is the idea in 
control of the will. Attention is the secret of will. All 
the ways which teachers and parents know for directing 
the interest and attention should be invoked in this matter 
of the trainmg of the will. Voluntary action is the end and 
aim of all teaching and training. Interest and attention 
are the forerunners of conduct. Only that conduct which 
is squarely based on these in a genuine way will be the 
permanent type of conduct. Only by the genuine securing 
of these can character be influenced. Only those things 
which strike deep into the roots of the nature of the young 
can so engross their genuine interest and attention that per- 
manent results in the way of conduct and the formation of 
character can be reached. This is a final reason for con- 
ductmg all traming work along the Imes of mterest and at- 
tention as set forth m Chapter VIII. That which genuinely 
interests, that which claims the undivided attention, that it 
is which guides the will and makes the character. Hence the 
necessity of securmg, along with a worthy and useful body 
of ideas, a desirable series of interests in which the atten- 
tion may be absorbed and along the lines of which the will 
may direct our voluntary conduct. 

3. Another important feature of the training of the will 
is the establishmg of a firm association between ideas and 
actions, or, in other words, the forming of a good set of 



300 AN INTEODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

habits. This feature has been touched upon considerably 
in Chapter IV. Wherever action of the riglit sort can be 
obtained so as to follow directly upon certain thoughts, the 
greatest encouragement should be given for its perform- 
ance. This is, indeed, a difficult and an important feature of 
will training. But if the habit or association between idea 
and action is once formed, the battle is practically won, 
and the volition will take place along these well-developed 
lines. (See page 291.) 

All ways practicable for the performance of actual good 
and useful conduct should be provided. The actual social 
life in the home, among young friends, on the play- 
ground, and in the school, is a great educator in this 
respect. Expressions of ideas and feelings are constantly 
going on here, and are somewhat under the control of 
parents and teachers. If the school is a real social group, 
if it is carried on in the simple naturalness of genuine 
human relations, then there will be a real training m the 
actualities of human intercourse which will hold as well 
outside the school as in it. There will be real enlighten- 
ment and thoughtful and generous responses. Ideas and 
actions of the kinds thus called for will become firmly 
associated, and the will so trained. Right and useful 
expression should be encouraged in every way possible. 
Here as elsewhere the guidance should be in the back- 
ground, and the lives of the boys and girls left as free and 
spontaneous as possible. From the discussion above, it was 
seen that, for the normal mmd, indirect suggestion rather 
than direct is most effective. It is thus the individual's 
own, apparently, rather than the will or advice of another, 
and becomes the more easily grafted. Again, in the actual 
individual conduct of the child in school as well as at home 
can much be done. How awkwardly one boy plays ball, 



CONSCIOUS ADAPTATION: THE WILL 301 

and how cleverly another ! Where has the difference come 
in ? Allowing for some difference in natural aptitudes, it is 
the practice and the coaching that count. Modern schools 
are much more efficient in the matter of connecting impres- 
sion or ideas with expression than were those of a past 
generation. All kindergarten, gymnastic, and drawmg exer- 
cises, and others of like nature, give teachers a wonderful 
opportunity. From the earliest age m school, up tln^ough to 
graduation, the training of the body into good and useful 
habits can go on. The eye, the hand, and the whole body 
can be the clever instruments of the will. The conditions 
under which these expressions are made, giving scope to the 
free, active life of the boy and girl, render doubly sure a 
firm connection between the idea of the thing to be done 
and the desire and ability to perform the act. The habit 
of satisfactory achievement becomes paramount, and con- 
scious direction comes to its own. 

4. Another very important feature of the training of the 
will has reference to its strength of purpose or power of 
initiative. There seems to be a fundamental difference in 
native force as between different pupils. Some boys are so 
much more ambitious than others. Some have a greater 
degree of active attention. Some are so much more perse- 
vermg. While teachers and parents have to recognize and 
admit these native differences, the desirable qualities in 
this connection can be in great measure encouraged in all. 
Undoubtedly the various exercises spoken of m the pre- 
ceding section can be of much use here. If the child is 
given a chance, if appeal is made to his ambitious impulses, 
if he is thrown on his own resources, though not to the 
extreme of utter failure, his buddmg manhood will assert 
itself. There is great danger of overtaxing him, thus 
making him unduly weary of his task. If the problem is 



302 AN INTRODUCTORY PSYCHOLOGY 

really too much for him, he will naturally become discour- 
aged in the matter of putting forth energy. It will become 
drudgery, and " balkiness " with respect to new tasks will be 
a likely result. If on the other hand the genuine effort leads 
to satisfactory results, if the price paid has the reward of 
success, then the ideal, and in a measure the habit, of hard, 
aggressive effort will be formed. The natural rewards of 
effort in the shape of success become the great factors in 
the case. The saving from failure and helping to success 
on the part of the teacher should be most sparing, and the 
subject of careful thought. The same may be said of reward 
and punishment for success and failure. Failure from lack 
of effort should be carefully distinguished from failure after 
effort. Lack of effort has its natural penalties, while aggres- 
sive, persevering work has its natural rewards, and these 
become the great promoters of initiative and strength of 
will. 

The means of training spoken of in connection with the 
development of a worthy and useful stock of ideas and 
the building up in the mind of a series of proper mterests, 
may be made much use of here. The knowledge of what 
men have done and can do, the knowledge of the means 
they have employed, the differences between successes and 
failures, the appeal of the example of others, especially ff 
adapted to the lines of the developmg interests of the pupil, 
— ■ all these will do much to strengthen the initiative and 
perseverance of the youth. The teacher's own attitude 
toward these things will have a great influence. Not that 
much can be done by way of moralizmg. The pupil will 
with great facility catch the teacher's enthusiasm for a 
concrete case of patient, strenuous, and even heroic effort 
for a worthy end. Such means as these should be used at 
all times, and great care should be taken to adapt them 



CONSCIOUS ADAPTATION: THE WILL 303 

wisely to cases in hand. Strength of initiative and per- 
severance do not come by command or even by entreaty, 
bat, in so far as may be, by the natural ways of which we 
have spoken. It is true that the youthful mind, year by 
year, will have as objects of admuation people and forms 
of enterprises which to the adult may seem strange and 
even ludicrous. But out of these, and out of many known 
and unknown interests and enthusiasms, will his ideals take 
shape, and by these in turn will his ambitions be fired. 

6. Some readers may think that the real difficulty iii the 
traming of the will has not as yet been touched upon, — ■ 
namely, the matter of discipline. Yet, on further reflection, 
what is all the traming referred to above but development 
and discipline ? Development and discipline are found in 
the actual contact of the active self with life's conditions 
in the school, the home, and elsewhere. In knowledge, in 
mterest and desire, in experiencing consequences, in form- 
mg habits and associations, in the struggle for success, in 
imitation, and in conflict is the will being trained. A 
" broken will " is an unlovely ideal. Such a will is likely 
to exhibit either lack of force, coupled with mechanical com- 
pliance, or the latter with the native forces expended un- 
desirably. The problem of discipline is rather the problem 
of enlisting the native forces of the mdividual along lines 
which are at once the fullest expression of the life of the 
self, and the most desirable from a social point of view. 

To conceive of discipline, however, m the sense of reward 
and punishment by teachers or parents as the chief means 
of training the will does not seem to accord with the doc- 
trmes of modern psychology. No doubt there is a place for 
such discipline, but surely it is of minor importance. 

There are, as Herbert Spencer and others have shown, 
many natural rewards and punishments, — that is, the 



304 AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 

natural pleasant and unpleasant consequences of conduct 
viewed in its individual and social relations, successes and 
failures in youthful efforts, — and these are, as we have 
seen, of the greatest influence m molding future action. 
These consequences should not be interfered with unless 
absolutely necessary, and the duty of those guiding the 
youth in this respect would seem to be that of supplement- 
ing, wherever necessary, this so-called natural discipline. 

By whatever method the discipline is carried on, there 
is the greatest necessity for realizing that it is individual 
personalities and temperaments that are being dealt with. 
Such discipline as we have spoken of need not be of the 
" soft " order. Firmness and reasonableness can go together. 
The natural penalties of misconduct can be enforced with 
as much of inexorableness as can arbitrary penalties. The 
great task of the teacher in this connection is to discover 
just what are the natural rewards and punishments of con- 
duct good and bad, in order that the pupil may reap in his 
individual nature, and as a member of the society (that 
is, the school) in which he is placed, the natural results of 
his conduct. 

The training of the will must, then, be engaged in under 
the guidance of these five features. According to the first 
will the knowledge and ideals of the youth develop, giving 
possibility of intelligent and worthy achievement. According 
to the second will he become absorbed in those things which 
will make liis life and conduct worth while. According to 
the third will situations call out proper responses and in a 
genuinely effective way. According to the fourth will the 
youth develop all that strength of initiative, determination, 
and perseverance of which he is capable. Finally, according 
to the fifth feature of will training as we have spoken of it, 
will the youth become disciplined by contact with teachers 



CONSCIOUS ADAPTATION: THE WILL 305 

and others and by the force of circumstances, so that he 
will respect the rights of others and have a proper regard 
for his own ambitions and his own duties. 

Of these features the third is probably of greatest prac- 
tical importance, since the will becomes genuinely trained 
only through the actual acquirement of habits, which in 
turn depend for their formation upon the real activities of 
the individual in adjusting himself to the conditions of 
his life, — 

Machineiy just meant 

To give thy soul its bent, 
Try thee, and turn thee forth sufficiently impressed. 

EEFERENCES 

Angell. Psychology, Chapters XX, XXI, and XXII. 
RoYCE. Outlines of Psychology, Chapter XV. 
Dewey. Psychology, Chapters XVIII and XXI. 
JuDD. Psychology, Chapter XIII. 
James. Talks to Teachers, Chapter XV. 



INDEX 



Abnormal psychology, 7 

Accommodation in nerve-cell func- 
tioning, 50 

Affection, attributes, 142 ; com- 
pared with sensation, 143 ; defi- 
nition, 144 

Affective qualities, conditions, 148, 
152, 155 

Affectively toned idea, 146 

Afferent nerves, 37 

After-images, 94 

Animal psychology, 7 

Articular sensations, 102 

Association, of ideas, 177 ; physio- 
logical conditions, 1 79 ; mental 
conditions, 182 ; secondary prin- 
ciples, 187 ; practical and educa- 
tional applications, 190 ; relation 
to volition, 291 

Attention, definition, 156 ; degrees, 
158 ; varieties, 159 ; duration, 
161 ; range, 164 ; as analysis, 
166 ; as synthesis, 166 ; educa- 
tional importance, 169 ; securing, 
170 ; habit, 176 ; in judgment, 
240 ; in reasoning, 248 ; in voli- 
tion, 287 

Automatic acts, 53 

Axone, 33 

Brain, structure, 40 
Brain-cell properties, 48 
Brightness qualities, 91 

Central nervous system, 37 
Cerebellum, 41 
Cerebrum, 43 
Child psychology, 6 
Cognition, 24 
Color contrast, 94 
Color qualities, 92, 93 
Color square, 92 
Color vision, theory, 96 



Colors of spectrum, 91 

Complementary colors, 93 

Conation, 25 

Concept, nature, 232, 235 ; origin 
and growth, 236 ; relation to 
judgment, 240 ; use in reasoning, 
246; training in formation, 249 

Conductivity of neurones, 47 

Conscious states connected and 
]Dersonal, 20 

Consciousness, definition, 17 ; fea- 
tures, 17, 27 ; function, 18 ; in 
constant change, 19 ; selective, 
21 ; factors, 22 ; degrees, 157 

Contiguity, association by, 188 

Contrast, association by, 187 

Corpus callosum, 42 

Cranial nerves, 36, 37 

Dendrite, 33 

Desire and its relation to volition, 

288 
Discipline in will training, 303 
Disci'imination, 166 
Duration as an aspect of time 

experience, 204 

Ear, structure, 98, 99 

Efferent nerves, 37 

Effort, 159, 160 

Emotion, obvious features, 259 ; 
mental factors, 261 ; expression, 
263 ; function, 266 ; education- 
ally considered, 271 

Emotional situations, 260 

Emotional training, 275; aims, 273; 
happiness as an aim, 273 ; intel- 
lectual activity as an aim, 277 ; 
useful and right action as an 
aim, 278 

Expectation as influencing percep- 
tion, 123 

Experimentation in psychology, 7 



307 



308 



AN INTEODUCTOEY PSYCHOLOGY 



Extent of movement, perception 

of, 121 
Eye, structure, 95 

Eeeling as a factor in conscious- 
ness, 25 

Peelings, classification, 146 ; sense 
and ideational, 146, 147 ; simple 
and complex, 148 

Fissure of Rolando, 42 ; of Sylvius, 
42 

Forced attention, 160 

Habit, meaning, 56 ; physiological 
basis, 56 ; relation to instinct, 
61 ; formation from impulses, 
63 ; as nerve functioning, 69 ; 
uses and training, 71 ; practical 
and educational applications, 75 ; 
influence on perception, 123 ; 
relation to volition, 282, 291 

Hallucination, nature, 129 

Happiness as an aim of emotional 
training, 273 

Harmonization a property of brain 
cells, 50 

Ideational feelings, 146 
Ideomotor action, 283 
Illusions, nature, 127 
Imagery, nature and source, 213, 

214 
Imagination, relation to memory, 

195, 196, 211, 221 ; definitions, 

196, 211, 212; material, 213; 
function, 214 ; in children, 216 ; 
forms, 217 ; constructive, varie- 
ties, 219 , relation to thinking, 
221 ; relation to association, 221 ; 
culture, 224 ; development by 
use, 226 ; results of development, 
228 

Imitation, in habit forming, 67 ; in 

volition, 293 
Impulse, compared vfith instinct, 

59 ; in formation of habit, 63 
Inhibition as a property of brain 

cells, 51 
Instinct, nature, 57 ; term used in 

two senses, 58 ; nervous basis, 

58 ; compared with impulse, 59 ; 

in habit forming, 61 



Intensity of sensations, 104 
Interest, as influencing perception, 
. 123 ; relation to attention; 160, 
167 ; genuine and false, 167 ; in 
terms of feeling, 168 ; educa- 
tional importance, 169 ; securing 
and awakening, 170, 174 ; in 
volition, 290 
Introspection, 6 

Judgment, relation to the concept, 
240 ; analytic, 241 ; synthetic, 241 ; 
training in connection with, 253 

Kinaesthetic sensations, 103 

Lobes of the brain, 42, 44, 45 
Localization of brain function, 43, 

44, 45 
Location, perception, 117 

Making up the mind, 296 

Medulla, 38, 41 

Memory, as one of the ideational 
processes, 195; compared with 
imagination, 196 ; definition, 
196 ; phases, 197 ; training, 207 

Mental conditions of association, 
182 ; of retention, 198 ; of recall, 
200 ; of recognition, 202 

Mental development, 27 

Mental elements, 23, 85, 142 

Mental factors in emotion, 261 

Mental facts, nature, 1 ; how ob- 
tained for study, 5 

Moral sentiments, 269 

Motive in volition, 290 

Motor nerves, 37 

Muscular sensations, 102 

Nervous system, general function, 
32 ; gross parts, 34 

Neurone, 33 ; properties and func- 
tions, 47 

Noise, 97 

Observation, training in capacity 

for, 132 
Observation in psychological 

study, 6 
Organic sensations, 103 



INDEX 



309 



Pain sensations, 102 

Perception, compared witli sensa- 
tion, 87, 110; definition, 109; 
analysis. 111 ; problems, 112 ; 
conditions, 113 ; of space, 116 ; 
as mental reaction, 126 ; func- 
tions, 130 ; training in, 132 

Peripheral nerves, 37 

Physiological conditions, of habit, 
56 ; of perception, 113 ; of affec- 
tion, 151 ; of association, 179 ; 
of retention, 199 ; of recall, 200 ; 
of recognition, 202 ; of emotion, 
262 

Plasticity, a property of brain cells, 
50 ; the basis of habit, 56, 69 

Play, 68 

Pleasure and pain in volition, 289 

Pons Varolii, 40, 41 

Present time, 204 

Pressure sensations, 101 

Primary fusion, 182 

Principal colors, 92 

Pseudo-intei-est, 167 

Psychology, explanation of word, 
1 ; xDrovisional definition, 1 ; 
problems, 8 ; practical applica- 
tions, 12 

Eeacting function of neurones, 48 

Reasoning, practical nature, 243 ; 
material used, 244 ; compared 
with association, 245 ; use of 
concepts, 246 

Reasoning process, 243 ; attention 
in, 248 

Recall, conditions, 179, 182, 199 

Recognition, nature and condi- 
tions, 200 

Reflex acts, 54 

Repetition as condition of reten- 
tion, 198, 208 

Retention, conditions, 198 

Sensation, definition, 86 ; com- 
pared vpith perception, 87, 110 ; 
classification, 89 ; attributes, 89, 
106 ; functions, 106 ; compared 
with affection, 143 

Sensation elements, 85 



Sense feelings, 146 

Sensitiveness as a property of 

neurones, 47 
Sensory nerves, 35 
Sentiment, classification, 267 ; 

compared with emotion, 268 ; 

educationally considered, 271 
Sight sensations, 90 ; stimulus, 95 
Similarity, association by, 187 
Size and shape, perception of, 120 
Smell sensations, 100 
Social environment, 171 
Sound sensations, 97 ; stimulus, 97 
Space perception, 116 
Spinal cord, 37 
Spontaneous attention, 160 
Succession as an aspect of time 

experience, 204 
Suggestion, in habit forming, 67 ; 

in volition, 293 
Symbolic imagery as a feature of 

the concept, 233 
Sympathetic nervous system, 46 
Synapsis, 40 

Task of psychologist, 11 

Taste sensations, 99 

Teacher, psychology and the, 13 

Temperature sensations, 101 

Tendinous sensations, 102 

Thought process, 232 ; training and 

development, 248 
Tones, 97 

Visual sensation qualities, 93 
Volition, place of ideas or images, 
284, 297 ; relation to attention, 
287 ; relation to desire, 288 
pleasure and pain as factors, 
289 ; place of interest, 290, 299 
relation to habit and association 
291, 299 ; will power, 292, 301 
imitation and suggestion, 293 
Voluntary action in relation to 
involuntary, 281 

Weber's law, 105 

Will power in volition, 292, 301 

Will training, 297 

Word imagery, development, 226 



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